


PWG: Potter Weasley Granger

by DWilde1891



Series: Vir fortis [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, James Bond (Craig movies), Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-17 10:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3526265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DWilde1891/pseuds/DWilde1891
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve years after the end of the war, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger have set up the wizarding world's only private security firm. Defying the ministry on a daily basis, their success has earned as many dangerous enemies as loyal friends.</p><p>Draco Malfoy's request for assistance with a mysterious item in his family vault triggers a chain of events that will change the world forever. A new power is rising and it will take everything Harry has left to lead his closest friends and uncertain lovers into battle against an enemy lacking apparent boundaries or clear purpose.</p><p>Ancient warlocks, mythical King's, war heroes and secret agents all have their role to play if they are to ensure their safety, and the world they swore to protect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I might have got a bit slash happy! It's predominantly a story driven by Harry, set in an international intelligence world familiar to James Bond/Q readers.
> 
> I intend to give each couple the time and space they deserve to be brilliant because on this I literally have no bias. So please bear with until I get round to your couple and in the meantime enjoy the ride!

Draco was very reluctantly, very impressed. Once all avenues supplied by the Ministry had dried up, he'd been left with one final option. Located in muggle Westminster, on the river, suspiciously close to MI6 was Potter's set up. Assuming it to be some ramshackle operation delivered out the back of a smelly studio above a kebab shop, he'd been somewhat unnerved to follow the address he'd been given to a newly built office building.

The walls were white, sofas brightly coloured, and the receptionist firmly ensconced behind a huge barricade of a desk. After ringing upstairs to ensure his appointment held, Draco was signed in, handed a visitor pass and smoothly directed to a lift and the top floor. It was all very dry and very muggle. Even the entrance to Potter's company was extremely corporate. Another reception desk and a large, grey and granite sign declaring the rest of this floor Potter Weasley Granger, or PWG for short, the three large letters layering lightly one on top of the other in an intimidating classical typeface.

The young witch behind the desk flashed him a professional smile, double checked his visitor pass, and directed him to the soft leather sofas nearby to wait for someone to come collect him. She then went back to typing, which was somewhat unusual. As far as Draco was aware magic and muggle technology rarely mixed.

He was mildly impressed to recognise that the reading material on the glass coffee table was actually up to date. It was an interesting combination of muggle and wizard publications. _The Guardian_ , _Wired_ , _The Financial Times_ looking perfectly at home beside _The Quibbler_ , _Wizarding Times_ and _Intense Innovation_. Draco noted that _The Daily Prophet_ was quite absent.

A door nearby opened and Draco felt his eyebrows shoot into his hairline, "Pansy."

"Draco!" she strode over, striking as always in four inch heels and a charcoal grey business suit, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for a meeting with Granger." he stood up and gently dusted off his suit, "Or Weasley. I'm not entirely sure."

Pansy kissed him on the cheek and slipped a hand through his arm, "Not sure?"

"I've recently found myself without a PA and it a fit of thoroughly unprofessional pique she destroyed all of my upcoming appointments." he drawled, "I've been in the wrong place with the wrong person for the last month."

Pansy shot him a look, then a grin, "Poor Draco. It's impossible to get the help these days."

"Which is precisely why she found herself out a job to begin with." he sniffed, taking in the buzz of a huge open plan office, "This is extremely...modern."

"I know." her smile was wide and proud, "Come-let's settle down and I'll see if I can't direct you to the correct consultation."

Pansy drew him to a small social area where there were more comfortable sofas and a kitchenette area covered with snarky motivational posters and company social activities. There were Bake Off's, Five-a-side-football, Quidditch, Yoga and a whole host of other things to do alongside important company memo's about kitchen cleaning rotation and ensuring that one's cups always found their way into the dishwasher.

"So." Pansy handed him a cup of tea and twisted round on the other end of the sofa, tucking one foot, now minus the shoe, beneath her thigh, "How can we help you?"

Taking in her casual air and quite unable to replicate it, Draco placed his cup on the coffee table and twisted around as much as possible without ruining the line of his suit, "Two weeks ago an object mysteriously appeared in the Malfoy vault at Gringotts." from the inside of his pocket he removed a photograph and handed it to Pansy, "A chest, covered in markings I don't recognise and so drenched in dark magic getting near it is like pushing through a hornets' nest."

Pansy peered at the grainy image, it shook, as though the person taking it struggled to hold the camera still, "I can't really see any of the carvings you mentioned."

"They're too subtle to catch on camera, though I tried." he was extremely pissed off, "The Goblins want me to remove it because it keeps disrupting their wards-but no one can get anywhere near it."

"And you've no idea where it came from?" she handed the image back.

"None whatsoever." he picked up his tea and blew off some steam, "It just appeared one day."

"So why aren't you with the Ministry?" Pansy asked, frowning, "Something that dangerous would be in their interests to remove as well."

"The Ministry are a bureaucratic nightmare." he rubbed between his eyes, just thinking of the mound of paperwork that had circled round to a complete lack of decision, "It's not an active threat so the Auror's would be useless, famous as they are for spelling anything that moves. The Patrol haven't the skills. Gringott's have three curse breakers on contract and they're all abroad. My only option is an Unspeakable but they only work on referral from Auror's and all they want to do is blow up my vault in the interests of the Greater Good."

"There are freelance specialists." Pansy pointed out.

"None of which have the same overwhelming success rate of PWG consultants." he sipped from his lovely deep tea and returned it to the desk, "I've no idea what the damn thing is but I want it gone. The Goblin's want it gone. I'll pay for extraction, destruction, I don't care. Just get the Goblin's off my back and the ministry and their pointless paperwork out of my hair."

Pansy nodded, seeming to come to a decision, "Okay-we can definitely help." she stood up, "Come with me."

Slipping back into her heels, Pansy led him through the main office to a door and up some stairs, along another corridor. All the rooms were sectioned off with glass walls so their contents were visible, though partially concealed by strategic strips of frost in a modern looking pattern. Draco sensed magic here. Lots of it. This was where the real work got done.

Pansy knocked on an open glass door with her knuckle, asking, "Do you have a minute?"

"Sure." answered a familiar voice.

Weasley was standing up, leaning over his desk while he chatted to a witch Draco vaguely recognised from Hogwarts. His face darkened a little when he spotted Draco.

"Draco has a cursed item that requires disposal." Pansy informed promptly, slipping her hands into her pockets.

"What sort of cursed item?" Ron asked, nodding politely and dismissing the dark haired witch who gave Draco a funny half smile before departing the room.

"A chest." Draco handed him the folder and Ron flipped through it, frowning a little.

"Where did you get it?" he asked, returning to the papers on his desk and flipping through them with his back turned.

"I didn't 'get it' anywhere." Draco replied, "It just appeared in my vault over a month ago."

Ron looked round, clearly unhappy, "Why is it still there?"

"Because I can't find a single reliable agency to remove it!" Draco cried in exasperation, "It's impossible to get anywhere near the bloody thing! The dark magic pouring out of it is unstable, dangerous and the last person that touched it lost their hand."

Ron screwed up his lips and exchanged a look with Pansy, "Only one qualified to deal with this is Harry."

Draco's stomach did a funny little twist at the mention of his name, "Potter?"

All of a sudden the ward alarms exploded to life. Ron and Pansy were immediately armed. Weasley ordered Pansy to keep Draco close and he strode through into the corridor, shooting off a series of Patronus' to get a read on the situation. Draco fought the urge to cover his ears up over the sound of the wailing, a sharp high keen designed to throw off any intruders. It was intensely irritating.

"Shut it off at least!" Granger was shouting.

There was a rush of magic that swept through the wards and silence fell. Draco followed Pansy through to what looked like a training area. It had a duelling circle marked out on a rubber floor, while muggle gym equipment and weights stood off to one side. A small crowd was being ushered away by Pansy while Granger stood over a figure on the floor, her hand braced on her hip, looking both deeply annoyed and deeply concerned.

"That's the second time this month." Ron observed mildly, "You alright there mate or do you want a hand?"

Harry Potter lay on his back, sweaty, flushed and panting for breath. He waved one hand, "I'll be-fine." he heaved, then coughed, "Just give me one-" another heave, "second."

Draco stood to one side and tried not to notice too hard how flat and tanned Potter's exposed slip of stomach was. In an attempt to get out of the way he moved, only a little to the right, and it was enough to catch Harry's attention. His head snapped round, and he'd launched himself up off the floor, wand raised so quickly Draco scarcely had time to do anything other than realise there was nowhere to hide and the only way to remain unthreatening was to raise one arm in self defence.

"Malfoy." Potter lowered his wand, still flushed, but his breathing seemed under control, "What are you doing here?"

"I have a cursed chest."

That sentence came out sounding far more dim than he originally anticipated or expected. Potter's green eyes flashed with something and he asked instead, "What sort of cursed chest?"

"The type that throws out dark magic, disrupts wards and is so dangerous I'm a day away from the ministry deciding the best they can do is destroy generations of my family's wealth and legacy for the sake of the Greater Good."

Potter holstered his wand in a professional looking leather belt that looked soft and worn through use and strode towards him, "Can you take me to it?"

"Harry!" Granger snapped, "You're bleeding!"

"Am I?" he skirted his hand down his chest and raised his eyebrows in surprise when he realised that there was in fact a deep gash across his chest, "So I am. I thought that was just a stitch."

He strode off nonetheless, pursued by Weasley and Granger. Draco exchanged a look with Pansy who raised her eyebrows faintly and shrugged. Potter was up ahead, turning into another office, t-shirt tugged off and chucked aside. Draco lingered somewhat awkwardly as Potter searched through a glass cabinet in the corner, muscles on his back straining and flexing with each movement, "Has anyone touched it?" he asked, throwing the question over his shoulder.

"The chest?" Draco asked, feeling a bit thrown.

"Yes, the chest." Potter said, a touch of impatience in his tone as he found what he was looking for and immediately spun round, and Draco noted the addition of a large griffin tattoo etched across his left pectoral muscle, partially concealed by an angry looking gash across his chest, "Something throwing off that much dark power must have a few inherent traps built in."

"An Auror touched it and," Draco felt his stomach turn with the memory, "her hand stuck to it. Her skin started to blister and burn until there was only bone and ligament left behind."

Potter's expression grew immediately stormy, "Which Auror?"

"Marcella Trews."

"Trews?" he demanded, "Fuck! Stupid girl, never could keep her hands to herself."

"Too curious for her own good." Weasley agreed.

"I can arrange a gift." Pansy suggested.

"Do it." Potter nodded, striding round to a large glass desk and tugging out another dark t-shirt from a draw and pulling it on, "How long have you had it?"

"A month."

"And presumably the ministry have demonstrated nothing but staggering ineptitude in the meantime." his expression was dark, he glanced at Granger, "I need Shin with me on this one."

Granger's lips screwed up on one side, "Is that a good idea?"

Potter shrugged, "That's not my problem."

Weasley's eyebrows raised, "Have I told you lately what a bastard you are?"

"No but it's always a pleasure to hear it again." his red lips curled into a smirk, "I got what we were looking for, by the way."

Granger's eyes widened, "You did! Where is it?"

"Safe." he dragged over a piece of paper and pressed his wand against it, magic flaring briefly before striding round the desk and handing it to Hermione, "Extraction team can collect it from this location."

"Brilliant work Harry." she grinned and bustled away without so much as a backwards glance.

"Pansy could you fetch Shin for me please?"

"Certainly." she nodded and turned away.

Weasley was eyeing Potter, "You don't have to deal with this now. You just got back from running for your life. Again."

Potter shrugged, "What else am I going to do?"

"Sleep, eat."

"I can sleep when I'm dead."

Weasley sighed and strode away. Draco was almost certain he missed the undercurrent of black humour in Potter's words. Or simply chose to ignore it. Potter strode round the desk and held out a hand, "Is that the case?"

"Yes."

Potter dropped into a low leather sofa propped up against the glass wall of his office and Draco, lacking ideas, did the same. Took in the office while Potter quietly absorbed the facts. It was as elite and modern looking as the rest of the company. Large glass desk, abstract artwork and chrome fixtures. One large window overlooking the busy London skyline. The sun was starting to break through the clouds, playful shocks of bright blue breaking up the dull endless white.

There was a gently knock on the door and Potter's intense green eyes flashed up from the page, "Shin."

"Harry." Shin nodded back, "Pansy said you needed me."

"A deeply cursed object." he held out the file and waited for Shin to collect it, "We need to extract the spells binding it."

Shin glanced at Draco and bowed his head politely before taking it, heading to sit in one of the chairs next to Harry's messy, clearly neglected desk. Asian, most likely Japanese judging by the name, Shin was slender and almost distractingly pretty. Thick, soft looking black hair. Narrow shoulders. Large, pale blue eyes and full coral lips. Well dressed in a charcoal suit, lightly striped, collar open at the neck revealing a hint of collar bone. He read the file, closed it, and addressed Draco.

"You have vicious enemies, Mr Malfoy." was his judgement.

Draco sighed, "I'm aware."

Potter was watching him carefully, "For an extra fee we could deal with that as well."

Draco turned carefully to look at Potter, slouched comfortably in the corner, one calf resting over his thigh, arms stretched out across the arm and back of the sofa, "In what sense?"

"PWG is a private security firm." Potter answered, his voice and expression perfectly bland, "If you have enemies, we can help you deal with them."

Draco felt hair rise on the back of his neck as the implication of those words started to take shape, "Then you will be there quite some time." he said slowly, unable to stop his eyes as they travelled the length of Potter's body, "Wizarding society is reluctant to forgive former Death Eaters."

"Is that what you are?"

Draco frowned, "What do you mean?"

"Can you be a former Death Eater?"

"Of course. I am."

"No." Potter disagreed, "I don't think you were ever a Death Eater in the first place."

Draco turned that thought over in his head. The things that made a Death Eater ran so deep, the lack of a master to guide that hatred and brutality didn't stop it from existing. His father stuck to his hypocrisy as fiercely as he ever did. Azkaban had only hardened his perception that being pure blood was something sacred, that their family had a duty to wizarding society. Protecting it from itself. On the face of it he was reformed, becoming patron and trustee to charities trying to transform the conditions that gave rise to the war in the first place. In reality Lucius was still going to dinner with the ministry's most powerful. Preaching about the importance of being conservative. Steady change. Playing on the fear of revolution, of doing too much too soon and destroying traditions that people clung to following the dissolution of society after the war.

Lucius was a Death Eater and working for himself instead of the Dark Lord would never change that.

"I don't think I was either." Draco agreed, curious about the tension that seemed to seep out of his muscles at the acknowledgement, "I've never considered it that way before."

"Because no one ever let you." Potter said, expression as bland as before, "There are so many opinions, from so many people and most of them have little to no interest in the facts. The call me a Fallen Hero. They call you a former Death Eater which doesn't make sense if you weren't ever a Death Eater in the first place."

Draco felt his lips curling into an amused smile, "That doesn't fit the narrative."

"Of course not. My childhood made sense to them. Good vs. Evil. A child rising from the grave to save the innocent." Potter's smile was dark, "They wanted me in the ministry. To be their performing Auror. So people would feel safe after the war."

"You did that." Draco pointed out, "You skipped Eighth Year and started training."

"What else was I supposed to do?" Potter questioned, "It seemed like a good idea as any. It was only when I started thinking for myself that they decided I was untrustworthy. When I left I stopped being a Saviour. I was selfish for trying to make something for myself, when so many other people needed me."

"Needed to feed off you." Draco muttered.

He recalled the fuss the Prophet made when Potter vanished following a blow up argument with Minister Shacklebolt at a memorial dinner. Quoting each rebuke with a tasteless sort of relish that made Draco feel sick with anger and frustration.

Potter's dark smile shifted into something more genuine, "Something like that, yes." his attention moved onto Shin who was quietly watching them, "Are you ready to go?"

"Yes, although I'm not certain you ought to work anything this complex right now."

"I'll be fine." Potter stood up abruptly and collected a battered leather jacket from the chair behind his desk.

"When was the last time you slept?" Shin insisted.

"Shin." Potter's expression was stern, strong jaw locked, vibrant eyes dull and flinty, "If you need me to pull rank on this I will."

Shin's eyes narrowed, "You're being irresponsible."

"I know my limits and I'm not discussing this any longer." Potter retorted in a chilly voice, striding round the desk, "Come along Malfoy."

Malfoy stood up and followed, pointing out in a light voice, "You're aware that you can't actually order me around?"

Potter spun round mid stride, throwing him a playful grin, gesturing widely, "Yet you still followed."

"You're heading to my vault." he returned, "I can't very well do anything else."

"I could always just break in." Potter slowed his stride a little, glancing somewhere behind Draco, checking to ensure Shin was following, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Yes and you were forced to escape on a dragon." Draco responded, following Potter up to another floor, "Do you really require this much space?"

Potter looked at him sidelong, "You're a businessman first Malfoy. Why do you think we need the room?"

"Because you offer an alternative to the ministry." Draco replied, as Potter lead him through to a bare room with a series of functional fireplaces in a row. Dark shiny granite, a tall vase with orchards standing between each one. The London skyline at their back.

"Yes." Potter agreed, "People are willing to pay extra for expertise."

"It's certainly why I'm here." Draco conceded, taking the powder Potter was holding out, "This isn't green."

"It isn't Floo powder, as such." Potter replied, eyes tracking Shin who headed to a fire on his left, picking a small bowl from the mantle and waiting for a cue, "It's something of Hermione's invention. Gets you to another fireplace without all the usual...unpleasantness."

Intrigued, Draco took some and gestured to Potter that he would follow. Nodding, glancing once at Shin, Potter threw in the powder and stepped through without saying anything. Shin did the same. Pursing his lips and a little concerned that he was about to wind up tumbling into a strangers fireplace, Draco took a breath and threw the light silver powder into the flames.

Time to sort this mess out.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco arrived promptly at Gringotts a little dazed at how easy the journey was. He wasn't awkwardly spun around once. Potter stood aside, arms crossed as he watched the goblins work. Shin at his side, who smiled a little when he caught Draco's expression, "It's very good isn't it?"

"How did it know where to send me?" he asked. 

"Legilimency." Shin answered, falling in behind Harry who was striding towards the waiting goblins, "It's a potion that mimics the spell, allowing for a flare of connection to your mind. More precise than speaking."

Draco was impressed, "Fascinating. What about the smooth journey?"

"Floo powder reacts directly with ones magic. The more you have, the more it'll spit you out. As it reads your mind for a location, it also gets a read on your magic and adjusts the force of travel accordingly."

"I've been working on potions that mimic spells." Draco admitted, "With variable success."

"They are fundamentally different types of magic." Shin said, "Combining one volatile component with another is generally speaking a recipe for disaster." 

"Or it can create something wonderful." Potter added, green eyes flicking across Shin, then Draco, before falling still in front of the gleaming wooden bench where a goblin worked. Not looking down his long nose until he was done.

"Yes?" the goblin, Perhoard, sneered.

"I need access to my vault." Draco stated, stepping forward.

Perhoard placed his quill aside and surveyed Potter and Shin, "It is not safe."

"Harry Potter has agreed to a consultation." Draco spoke slowly.

"And the boy?" dark, oily eyes travelled along Shin's body at length. At his shoulder Potter shifted, though his expression remained professional and neutral. 

"My assistant." Potter answered in a pleasant voice, "Shinobu Takanawa."

Shin bowed low and addressed the goblin, "It is an honour to meet you."

The goblin's mouth twisted into a leer, "And you." his attention snapped back to Draco, "I will take you to your vault."

"Thank you." Draco's shoulders dropped a little in relief as he watched the goblin step down from the dias. Potter slipped his hands in his pockets and followed. He was too relaxed. It was unnerving. The Potter Draco remembered from school was full of restless energy. Never walking when he could run. A flash of heat searing across his vision, leaving him dazed and blinded until his sight cleared again. This Potter was graceful. Battered jeans and singed leather distracted from his body and the fluid, careful way he moved. Potter didn't rush anymore, but that didn't mean he'd stopped being prepared for anything. 

After another unpleasant journey on a rushing, rickety cart squeezed up against Shin-Potter had sat down in front beside the goblin without word-they finally reached the Malfoy vault. Both Potter and Shin paused a few feet away, exchanging a look Draco couldn't interpret. Once the door to the vault was open the itching darkness of the chest rushed out. Everyone but Potter flinched. His expression sharpened and he strode towards it, torches on the wall flickering into life as he walked. 

Shin held back, opting to follow Draco, pale blue eyes flicking over the generations of accumulated wealth. Furniture, jewellery, portraits and numerous other items all neatly ordered. After the shock of reparation payments, his mother had found it soothing to come down here and re-order what they had left. 

"Your family is truly ancient Mr Malfoy." Shin observed softly, fingers ghosting over an ancient crown, "Formerly wizarding royalty?"

"Yes." Draco answered, watching Potter who had fallen still a foot away from the chest, simply watching it. His feet were spread apart. Arms loose at his side. Fingers twitching in a rhythm Draco couldn't follow, "The Malfoy's were one of the ruling family's-they cycled the crown through them in a merry go round of death and brutality until the Civil War put an end to such fanciful ideas."

"Who were the other's?" Shin asked, keen eyes settled on Potter.

"The Blacks, Gaunts and Prewetts." he answered, shuddering when the chest let out a sudden shriek, the wood groaning as though it was being forced under immense pressure. Potter merely titled his head a little, looking thoughtful. The sound suddenly stopped.

"What was that!" he demanded.

"It's reaching out to me." Potter answered in a distracted sort of voice, "Are you sure it's a chest Malfoy?"

"What? Of course it's a chest!" he gestured at it irritably, "You can see that it's a chest!"

Potter took another step towards it, "No...that's what it wants you to think."

"Harry." Shin said in a soft warning tone.

"Can you feel this Shin?" Potter asked instead, "It's so old I don't think it even has definition of light or dark. Just...wild. Untamed."

"It could be a deceit." Shin responded in a reasonable voice, but he was clearly worried, wand in his hand as though ready to step in the second something happened, "Designed to draw you in."

"It isn't. I've plucked away the lure worked into the glamour."

"I can still see a chest." Draco said, wondering what on earth Potter was talking about and how he could have possibly done anything. He hadn't even removed his wand from its holster. 

"No, you see a chest because that's what you assume you're looking at." Potter explained, in a tone not dissimilar to their old professors at Hogwarts, "Turn away and look at it from the corner of your eye and tell me again what you see."

Huffing irritably at being told what to do, Draco did as instructed. He looked around, so he was viewing an ancient cabinet filled with crystal decanters and muttered, "It's still a chest."

"Because you still thinks that it is." Potter replied in a patient voice, "Think about something else."

Easier said than done. Draco had no idea what was happening. It was supposed to be a civilised consultation with either Granger or Weasley. He should have requested someone else. Whatever Potter had been doing the last twelve years it had clearly driven him off the deep end. His friends were clearly worried. Not eating, not sleeping. There were rumours that Potter had started working abroad, becoming allies with other wizarding societies. He had been spotted fighting in foreign wars. An assassin. Mercenary. On the cutting edge of magical innovation. All these years later Potter invited speculation and offered no resolution, refusing to settle into a single role-

"Oh!" he cried, snapping his head round, "What is that!"

The chest was shifting, pulsing a little. The image flickering as it tried to take another shape. 

"Has it been transfigured?" Draco asked, concentrating on the not-chest and trying to grasp what it was. It was difficult. It wouldn't remain still. Each attempt to determine its purpose shifted it onto something else. It was starting to make his head ache.

"Once...and now it's trying to throw off the magic responsible for binding it." Harry murmured, "Shin I'm going to dig into the foundations of its form and stabilise the magic pouring off it. Could you start loosening the restraints? We need to get at the core as calmly as possible. It'll sense our intent if we mean to cause harm."

"You speak as though its sentient." Draco observed, watching as Shin took up position at Potter's left hand.

"If you leave magic for long enough it starts to make up its own rules." Potter replied, "Didn't you notice that at Hogwarts?"

"I've never really thought about it." Draco admitted, "The manor has its idiosyncrasies as well."

Potter tutted, "That's the problem with you pure bloods. So used to magic you scarcely see it anymore."

"And the problem with you muggleborns is that you're forever in awe." Draco replied, his tone more playful than provocative, "I'm sure you've noticed how rare it is for a first generation muggleborn in wizarding society to achieve success? Being forever dazzled by the casual use of magic is something of a setback once school has ended."

"Yes and the proliferation of pure bloods in strategically places ministries and businesses has no impact on that whatsoever." Potter rebuked, actually looking over his shoulder, warm light bouncing off his vibrant eyes, smiling a little before his expression sobered, "I recommend you step back. This is difficult, complex work and we'll be here for awhile. There is a genuine danger of things getting out of control."

Draco nodded and strode towards the back of vault, taking a seat in a dusty leather armchair. The goblin stepped forward out of the shadows and Draco jumped, forgetting he was still lurking. Black eyes glittering avariciously in the shadows, he clasped his long fingers behind his back, silently watching as Potter and Shin worked. 

For over an hour there was nothing but the gentle prickling of magic and muttered words between Shin and Potter as whatever they were doing to the not-chest started to take effect. It still refused to take shape but it was flickering less and the din of dark magic that had caused so much harm was melting away, the screeching of discontentment tamed into a gentle hum that Draco could feel curling beneath his ribs. 

When the magic was finally stable and the curse broke, there was no fanfare. The chest disappeared. Potter's wand fell gracefully to his side and Shin strode towards him, not even glancing at what it had become. Draco jumped up out of his seat, immediately pursued by the goblin whose mouth was all but watering.

"Oh what a beauty." Perhoards' mouth filled with sharp teeth, black eyes gleaming, "Gringotts is happy to take this off your hands Mr Malfoy."

"I'd be grateful if someone could explain to me what 'it' is." Draco drawled.

There was a huge lump of rock sitting where the chest had once been, with the hilt of a sword sticking out the top. It was long, intricately carved, the leather soft and scored with use. 

"Come now, you've heard the legends." the goblin's voice was soft and cold, and he climbed onto the rock using a few small footholds, "The Once and Future King."

Draco looked sidelong at Potter who was watching Perhoard speculatively. Shin's fingers were wrapped around Potter's wrist and he looked concerned. With reason. The bruises beneath Potter's eyes had deepened in the last hour and his tanned skin had developed a waxy, pale quality beneath the flickering firelight.

"Excalibur?" Draco was a little surprised, "Who would drop Excalibur in my vault?"

"Oh don't you see Mr Malfoy." the goblin was settled near the sword now, "It was meant to come to Gringotts. The most secure place in the world."

"Apart from Hogwarts." Potter threw in.

"It merely landed with you." the goblin continued as though there hadn't been an interruption

Draco watched as the goblin reached out to touch the sword. Initially nothing happened. Until he started to scream, flames erupting around his small body. Shin hissed in irritation when it became clear Potter wasn't planning to do anything to help. Waving his wand, a vacuum wrapped around the goblin, putting out the flames, and he was gently placed on the floor wrapped in a hastily transfigured blanket. Draco tilted his head to the side as he surveyed the goblin carefully. There wasn't any scent of burning flesh this time. Perhoard's skin was clear, but he was breathing heavily. Serves the greedy little thing right.

Potter merely grinned, all teeth, a wild rush of victory spreading across his face. He turned to Draco, "Don't tell a single living soul that this is in your possession."

"It is?" Draco asked, surprised, "Don't you want to take it?"

"It's not mine to take. Nor is it yours to keep." he answered crypitcally, reminding Draco forcefully of just whom Potter had tutored under for most of his life.

He turned to Shin, "Obliviate the goblin and escort Malfoy home. I have work to do." and he strode away without so much as a backwards glance. 

Shin glared and sighed, before shaking his head and doing as he was asked. Shin levitated the goblin out of the vault, which swung shut behind them. Muttering a few healing spells under his breath, Shin obliviated the goblin and woke him up. Perhoard groaned and stood slowly, looking suspicious and confused. 

"There was more than one cursed item in the Malfoy vault." Shin informed the goblin in a sympathetic voice.

"Where's Potter?" he demanded.

"He was called away." Shin explained in a professional voice, "We've done all we can for now. The wards should remain stable."

"Okay." still somewhat befuddled, the goblin led them back out of the vault. Draco was delighted to be back above ground and took a deep breath in the cool air. Spring was starting to soften into summer and he couldn't wait to start losing some of his stifling winter layers. He strode towards Diagon Alley, suddenly desiring a strong dark coffee and was a little surprised when Shin remained in step.

"Thank you for all your help, but you needn't tag along. I'm perfectly capable of getting home on my own."

"Respectfully Mr Malfoy-those weren't my orders." he replied with a little smile.

Draco smiled back, "Potter is as arrogant as I remember."

"Harry is driven." Shin gently corrected, joining Draco in the cue at Carlotta's Coffee House, a recent and much welcome addition to Diagon Alley. Dark wood, shining coffee machines and shelves filled with classics, both wizard and muggle, it was a bustling little haven on a street that hadn't altered once in recent memory. 

Draco considered that view point, "I hated him with a passion at school." he admitted freely, trying to work out how he felt now that he had been in Potter's orbit once again, "He was this messy, skinny, quaint little thing. Bashful and unremarkable. Automatically winning the favour and attention of the wizarding world's most powerful and influential by virtue of existing. It was infuriating."

Shin seemed thoughtful, "He never talks about Hogwarts...he never talks about anything."

"Oh?" Draco reached the counter, ordered a black coffee for himself and a latte for Shin, "Unusual. He was always so...free, with his feelings."

Shin glanced sidelong at Draco as they waited, "I suspect that Harry is no longer the boy you remember."

Draco held his gaze, he really was astonishingly pretty, "I suspect you may be right."

A fetching flush gathered on Shin's cheeks and Draco's smile broadened into a grin. They took their coffees and departed, Draco heading towards the apparition point, "How did you end up working for PWG?" he asked, certain that any further conversation about Potter would only lead to the stirring up of feelings he wasn't ready to face yet.

"It's a long story." Shin answered, his expression shuttering a little, "I've been there for five years now...and I'm happy there."

"What you aided Potter with today-is that what you usually do?" he asked curiously.

"Not really. Day to day I work closely with Hermione." he flashed a small smile, "I enjoy potion making, immersing myself in the theory of magic."

"That sort of thing would make you a good curse breaker." Draco acknowledged.

"Yes but the only times I go out into the field are with Harry-or Ron, but that is extremely rare." 

Draco made a thoughtful noise and sipped from his coffee, bitterness spreading delightfully across his tongue, "What sort of projects are you working on at the moment?"

"Many I can't share." Shin said with a mischievous little smirk, "But there are some I play with in my spare time."

Without thinking about it, Draco caught Shin's wrist and side-alonged them both back to the manor. They arrived in the entrance hall. Removing his jacket, Draco placed it on a nearby table and headed through to the kitchen. He was suddenly ravenous. Shin remained closeby. His footsteps were light, barely echoing in the long dark hallways. 

"This is a marvellous house." Shin said in an admiring voice, sitting down at the kitchen table as Draco looked at what was in the fridge.

"Thank you. My parents take great pride in it." he snagged some cold meat and salad, "Would you like a sandwich?"

"Yes please. Thank you."

Draco pulled together something for them to eat and asked Shin about his potions projects. Soon enough they were absorbed in a lively conversation about potions theory and thoroughly lost track of time. They were disturbed by ringing coming from within Shin's jacket. He removed a muggle communication device and answered quickly, his expression slipping back into something reserved and professional. Draco sipped from his water and waited.

"I'm sorry but I'm needed back at the office." he explained once he was done. 

Draco was disappointed, it had been a long time since he'd met someone capable of keeping up with him, "Oh-well. That is a shame."

"It is." Shin's lips curved into that lovely smile, though he didn't leave immediately. He was waiting for something and it took Draco much longer than necessary to get the hint. Leading wasn't something he did frequently. 

"We should do it again." he said slowly.

"We should." Shin's voice was delighted, he removed a card from his inside jacket pocket, "I cook for everyone once a week. You should join us."

"I'd love to." Draco took the card, "When?"

"Saturday, at eight." he flashed another smile, "See you then." 

"I can show you out?"

"Not necessary." Shin assured, holding out his hand to shake, "Goodbye Mr Malfoy." and he left, already back on his muggle device. Draco looked at the used plates and started to clear them away, pouring hot water and washing up liquid into the sink. They no longer kept house elves. Laws pertaining to their ownership had grown more sophisticated. It wasn't simply a case of having the wealth to purchase one. Now families that demonstrated a history of cruelty were placed on a register and banned from offering an employment contract.

These days they had maids, but they had set hours and much more around the manor was done by hand. Draco hated it at first. The self important brat he'd been thought the act of doing his own laundry or washing up as something far beneath him. Now he didn't mind so much. After long days arguing with lawyers and looking at numbers he found it relaxing to do something practical. 

It had been a long day and Draco was worn out already. Leaving the dishes to dry, he headed to his quarters, picked up a book on transfiguration theory he'd been making notes on for the last few months and settled in with a glass of wine. It was soothing. Mostly. His attention only occasionally broken by the a sudden flash of bright green, intense, heady and only a little arousing. 

Just a little.

Or so he told himself.


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days passed in a blur of work and arguing. As well as dealing with the day to day running of the Malfoy estate, Draco was also trying to develop some of his own projects. It was proving to be something of a nightmare. The effort of concealing them from his parents was becoming a severe drain on his time and energy. 

That, and pointing out to his ever interfering family that he was not, under any circumstances, getting married. 

It all blew up Friday night when he returned to the manor after a long meal hashing out the details of one of his personal projects with Susan Bones. They trained together as barrister's after the war. While Susan continued to practice, Draco's time had been absorbed and then annexed by the demands of his family, something for which he was infinitely resentful. 

The swarm of new laws introduced by the ministry after the war had left a significant number of witches and wizards disenfranchised. New taxes, fresh penalties, harsh sanctions on thought and behaviour had gone under the radar. The Prophet didn't print anything about the hundreds of children that had been orphaned and abandoned to poorly run institutions. How pressured child services had become. The way Hogwarts had been drawn into the ministries ever expanding web of paranoid control, forcing professors to report on students who may or may not be harbouring extremist view points. 

Twelve years after a war started by a damaged unloved orphan, the ministry's attempt to stop the same thing happening again was breeding a new, widespread and acceptable mistrust of those that already felt abandoned. Harry Potter was a rare case, but Draco suspected he was so monumentally fucked up by his experiences that putting him on some sort of rational scale was quite impossible. 

Together he and Susan were pooling their considerable skills and resources to offer an alternative to the biased ministry form of representation. It made no sense that the ministry trained its own solicitors. They had been liaising with Hogwarts and the many strained regional child services offices that were already operating outside ministry remit, offering legal help and developing educational programmes to ensure the children unfairly damaged by a war they hadn't even been involved in, had the option of doing something else other then getting sent to Azkaban on charges pertaining to petty crime. Draco wanted to break the circle and give lonely, angry insecure teenagers the chance to prove to themselves and others that they weren't just a drain on the state. That they had the right to live their life on their terms. 

All in all he'd been in a great mood. His head was aching, of course, but he was satisfactorily tired. Being called into the drawing room to encounter the Greengrass family was the last thing he needed. His mother handed him a glass of deep red wine and drew him into a conversation with Astoria before returning to Lucius' side.

Generally speaking Draco wasn't picky about those he went to bed with. Gender binaries always felt dated and limiting to him. Nevertheless he couldn't muster a single spark of attraction for this girl. Astoria was perfectly lovely. Pale skinned, with wide blue eyes and excellent bearing. She was every inch a pure blood woman. Dull as one as well. So he endured small talk, the gossip about other families and tried not to explode at how pointless all this was. 

Pure bloods were fading and their traditions were becoming increasingly obsolete. Pretending as though it was the nineteenth century while the streets stirred with agitation and hunger for change seemed farcical in the extreme. Potter was silently leading the fight against the ministry in precisely the same way he had twelve years ago. Before that, even, when he refused to play by anyone else's rules apart from his own and Draco was sick to death of doing all he could to keep his family afloat while they did nothing for him. 

"I am not marrying Astoria Greengrass." he intoned, for the tenth time that week as he helped himself to a glass of whiskey. 

"The Greengrass' are a respectable family." Narcissa said quietly, sitting demurely by the fire. 

"Which means what, precisely?" Draco demanded, "We already have all the money we could ever need."

"We need to establish our legacy!" Lucius hissed, "It is your duty to marry and produce an heir!"

"Just as it was my duty to stop practising and take up managing the family estate!" he hissed back.

"Yes!" Lucius shouted, "You should never have gone to work in the first place!"

"I wanted to work!" Draco shouted back, putting aside the glass and resting his hands on the cabinet, using the grip to ground him as years of anger and resentment threatened to burst out, "You recall our arrangement? I come back to the manor and you let me do as I please!"

"That was years ago." Lucius dismissed, "You should have grown out of that rebellion by now."

Draco's mouth dropped open and it hit him all at once how pointless all this was. Lucius would never understand what Draco wanted, how far it fell outside the boundaries of what he knew or would ever care to know. Throwing back his drink, Draco pulled up to his full height, "I can't do this anymore."

Lucius frowned, "Do what?"

"This." he gestured to the ornate, intimidating drawing room, "Us. I can't be the son you need anymore. Not without compromising everything I care about."

"What does that mean Draco?" Narcissa rose gracefully from her seat by the fire, hands folded neatly, but tightly in front of her.

"It means I don't give a fuck about pure blood traditions." he replied, ignoring the minute flinch at his language, "I love you both dearly but I will not marry, I will not waste anymore of my life playing with our obscene wealth when there is real work to be done. I'm sorry." he addressed his mother, his sadness that it had come to this thickening his voice, "I really am, but I must leave."

Narcissa's silvery blue eyes shivered a little, but she nodded, once, "Do as you must." and he strode round to embrace her. Narcissa trembled a little in his arms and she said under her breath, "This will always be your home Draco and you will always be welcome here."

"Thank you, mother. That means a lot." he kissed her cheek and departed, packing his things as an argument raged between his parents downstairs. Not stopping to say goodbye, he Flooed to the Savoy and crashed face first on the bed once he'd checked in. Unable to process anything else.

\--

A day later he was standing outside the address Shin had given to him, unsure how sociable he was capable of being. It was a standard, four story house tucked away in West London. Grimmauld Place. He recognised the name as something associated with the Black family. Sighing, too curious about what Shin was doing giving out Potter's address to pretend to himself he wanted to leave, Draco walked up the steps and knocked on the door. A moment later Shin threw it open.

"Mr Malfoy! I'm so glad you could make it."

"Please call me Draco." he handed his jacket to Shin, "Mr Malfoy is my father."

"Draco." he pronounced it carefully, "Come on through. Everyone else is already here."

There was the scent of something spicy floating through the house and Draco was neatly deposited by Shin into the generous sized sitting room. Already comfortable and sipping drinks were Pansy, Granger, Weasley, Lovegood and Longbottom. All the heroes in one room, with one notable exception. They all waved at him genially, as Shin took Draco's bottle of wine, returning shortly after with a bottle of Japanese beer and settling on the floor by the fire.

It was a finely decorated room, with red walls and dark leather brown sofas that Draco was happy to soak into. The furniture was light and minimal, books in a variety of different languages crowding the walls. Plants he couldn't identify had been placed in strategic positions by the fire, the door and in the spare hollow next to an armchair. They had a gentle scent, breaking up the otherwise masculine severity of the room. Draco liked it here. Tidy but lived in. Picking up the warmth of others and spreading it around. 

"You look like hell darling." Pansy stated, eyeing him from over the rim of her glass.

"It's been a trying week." he sipped from his bottle of beer, it was a little too sharp at first but after a couple more attempts the flavour seemed to soften and he started to enjoy it. Draco wasn't exactly a regular beer drinker.

"Is it true?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, the group were still chatting but he'd lived with spies as well and he knew a ruse when he saw one, "Don't be coy Pans. I know our mother's met for brunch this morning."

She dropped the pretence at once and leant forward, "So you've really left?"

"Yes. It was about time, I should think." he drawled.

"And your work with Susan." Granger demanded, her expression intent, brown eyes flaring with passion and determination, "Is that true?"

"Of course it's true." Draco scoffed, "Why else would I spend my free time up to my eyeballs in case files and educational frameworks?"

Granger's eyes sparkled and she leant forward, "It's a terrific idea." 

"We've been campaigning on orphanage reform for years." Weasley admitted, slouched down with one foot resting on the coffee table, "The fact that Harry has personal experience of being a war orphan seems to be hindering our cause rather than helping it."

"That's only because any conversation between Harry and the ministry is impossible." Granger muttered, turning her attention to Draco, "A few years ago we put together a business case for PWG to run some of the most troubled orphanages on a contractual basis. It was flawless. We worked on it tirelessly but Shaklebolt refused to see sense."

Draco frowned, "I don't understand. Why would he turn you away?"

"Dumbledore's Army." Weasley intoned, his voice bitter.

"I remember that..." Draco said softly.

"You should." Weasley said sharply, "If it wasn't for your snidey little Inquisitorial Squad sucking up to Umbridge we would have been able to practice magic out in the open."

"The ministry wanted in at Hogwarts." Draco returned sharply, "We were children-it would have happened regardless."

"That's not the point." Granger snapped coldly, throwing Weasley a chilly glare, "The point is Shacklebolt is afraid of exactly the same things Fudge was. Dumbledore was immensely powerful and he operated alone. The ministry were frightened of his influence on young minds."

"Considering what he did to Harry, they might have been onto something there." Pansy interjected.

"Well, quite." Granger conceded, throwing Pansy a small smile, "Nevertheless the fear and the reaction is the same. Shacklebolt believed that we wanted to use the orphanages as a grassroots movement against ministry influence."

"And you didn't?" Draco asked, smirking a little.

"Of course not! We have more than enough to do without trying to control hormonal teenagers as well!" Granger cried, "We just wanted to help."

"The meeting ended with Harry's wand at Shacklebolt's throat." Weasley explained, there was a cool, dark curl at the corner of his lips that Draco found intriguing, "We nearly started a civil war that day."

"I wish you wouldn't be so casual about that Ron." Granger said disapprovingly. 

"It's true though." Longbottom shrugged, adding for Draco's benefit, "The only reason it didn't happen is because a call came in from one of Harry's contacts in Bolivia and he had to go back out into the field."

Draco sipped from his drink, eyes drifting towards the fire as he absorbed what they were saying, "Something needs to be done. We can't go on like this...otherwise we'll wind up living under the same repressive regime we lost so many people fighting against."

"I'll drink to that." Lovegood declared, holding up her glass and they all copied her toast. Shin caught Draco's eye for a moment before jumping up from his place on the floor, declaring dinner to be ready. 

Dinner, as it turned out, was a richly spiced and extremely tasty chicken katsu curry with mounds of sticky rice, crunchy vegetables and accompanied by yet more beer. Draco couldn't remember the last time he ate something so hearty and filling. Curry drunk, Draco found himself pulled into conversation with Shin and Granger about the careful application of spellwork in potion making while everything from film to quidditch was debated noisily in the background.

When they'd all abandoned their ice cream dessert and Draco had curled up with his head in Pansy's lap so she could run her fingers through his hair like they used to when they were kids, Potter returned. He strode through the living room in a dark three piece suit, each garment perfectly tailored to fit his athletic frame. Messy hair had been carefully tamed so it was brushed off his face, lightening scar on full, unapologetic display. The contrast to his battered, blood stained clothes from the other day couldn't have been more acute.

"Good date?" Weasley smirked.

"Date?" Potter asked, his face screwing up as though the word was distasteful as he pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet, "I wasn't on a date. I was catching up with an old contact."

"Is that what it's called these days?" Longbottom drawled.

"You have a thing Harry." Granger stated, gesturing to the side of her neck and Potter peered at her like she was mental, until he knocked back a drink and moved in front of the mirror above the fireplace.

"Bastard!" he cried, fingertips pressing against the very obvious love bite on his neck muttering, "The bloody arse should know better at his age." 

"Harry has a secret lover." Pansy murmured as though sharing a secret, her voice a stage whisper, "Who insists on marking him up whenever possible."

"I don't have a lover." Potter retorted, though he was grinning, his movements softer and more languid than they had been at Gringotts as he picked his way across the room to drop into the remaining empty space beside Lovegood, "Lover implies intimacy beyond the sharing of trade secrets and bodily fluids."

"Your charm never ceases to amaze me." Granger muttered, rolling her eyes.

"I have plenty of charm Hermione." he contested with a small smirk, all that diffuse, casual sex appeal that had been pouring off him concentrated into the dark red curve of his lips and sparkling green eyes, "I wouldn't be so good at my job otherwise."

"You're good at your job because your conscience is broken." Weasley interjected casually, leaning over to take the bottle from Potter.

"That might also be true." Potter conceded, removing his suit jacket and throwing it across the coffee table, "So what have I missed?"

"An excellent curry for one." Draco began.

"What did you make this week?" Potter asked Shin, who was sitting by the fire again. It was clearly his spot. 

"Katsu."

"Oh I love katsu!" he groaned, "I was in some stupid, French restaurant for half the evening. Is there any left?"

"A little." Shin's pale blue eyes sparkled beneath the praise, "Where did you spend the other half?"

"Claridge's." he rolled his eyes.

Pansy pulled a face, "You went to Claridge's for a hookup?" 

"Did you learn anything about Excalibur?" Granger questioned, before Potter could retort. She was slouched comfortably in an arm chair and sipping from a glass of white wine she'd moved onto after dinner.

"Yes." Potter looked at Draco, "My friend would like to take a look at the stone."

"Friend?" Draco repeated. 

"Yes. Friend." Potter echoed, he seemed to be in a good mood, "I'm asking your permission but we'll go whether you give it or not."

"Well thank you for pretending to extend the courtesy." Draco drawled.

"My pleasure." Potter smirked, reaching across to get the bottle from Weasley, smoothly deflecting further attention away from how he'd spent his evening, and with whom, by asking what everyone was planning to do with the rest of their weekend. Draco found it amazing that they all had interests outside of their job. He couldn't understand how they found the time.

"What about you Draco?" Shin asked.

"Me?" Draco had been silently marvelling at the thought of Longbottom as part of an amateur diving team, "I should probably look for somewhere to live."

"You're homeless?" Potter's attention suddenly snapped away from Lovegood, "What happened?"

"I told my parents I didn't give a fuck about their traditions, their wealth or their arranged marriage." the rush of retaliation was still carrying him through the shock of effectively cutting all ties with his only remaining family.

"Malfoy also confirmed our reports about Susan's work." Granger said, her expression cool as she viewed Draco from across the room.

All of Potter's easy temper slipped off him and he became the same intensely focussed man he'd encountered only a few days before. The one he'd always been afraid of at school.

"You're her silent partner?" Potter demanded.

"Yes." Draco said slowly.

"He's also insightful and skilled enough to match Hermione and I on critical magical theory." Shin added.

The room was quiet while Potter silently considered Draco, who sat up straighter, uncertain what was happening and just what the purpose of this evening had truly been. 

"Would you like to stay here?"

Of all the things Draco expected Potter to say, that wasn't it. He was entirely wrong footed.

"I'm sorry?"

"I won't ask again." Potter's voice was stern, "Hermione and Shin have both vouched for you. If you want, you can stay here while they get you settled in PWG. Then you can do whatever you want."

Draco looked around, at all the severe faces before he landed on Shin, "...You had an ulterior motive?"

Shin shrugged, "Part of the business."

"We lost a handler a couple of months ago." Weasley explained, "We need smart, skilled people to support Harry and his agents when they're in the field."

"And invent things to keep them alive when they're out of it." Hermione said, somewhat reprovingly. 

Draco rubbed his eyes, now completely and utterly confused, "I don't understand! What is it you all do? The private security and curse breaking I understand. The research, development and philanthropy I understand. Almost. But why were you bidding for orphanage contracts? What the hell are you doing abroad?"

Potter, Weasley and Granger exchanged loaded glances, clearly trying to work out how much to tell him. In the end Potter poured another whiskey and said in an even voice, "I dropped out of the Auror programme because there was strong reason to believe Voldemort's supporters had fled abroad and were reorganising."

"They were." Draco said, he thought everyone knew that, "I'm not certain what stalled their advancement but my Father was very delicate about his involvement." 

"We did." Weasley stated, taking the bottle from Harry, adding wryly, "We learned a lot about how not to conduct covert missions during the war."

"The ministry refused to get involved." Granger explained, "Harry's explosion of temper at the memorial dinner was the final straw."

"They didn't want to panic people." Harry continued, "They thought exporting their scant security forces to Argentina where the highest sightings of Death Eater's had been spotted would make them look weak at home." he glanced up at Draco, "Bearing in mind these were the years when people wanted an Auror on every street corner. All it meant was in a few years time an inflexible and easily defeated system would find itself under attack once more, on precisely the same terms as the previous two wars that had so effectively fucked up all of our lives." 

Draco tilted his head thoughtfully, reluctantly impressed, "So you dismantled their network."

"And made ourselves broke in the process." Potter said a little ruefully, "I spent the entirety of my family's fortune on doing what needed to be done."

"Going private was less an ideological choice than financial necessity." Granger said with a little smile, surveying Potter fondly, "Harry developed an unnerving knack for spotting potential clients."

"When it got around that the team responsible for destroying the next wave of pure blood fanaticism were for hire, it all flourished from there." Weasley finished, "The company grew out of our refusal to stand by while the ministry did nothing and that vague remit remains the same."

"It keeps us sane." Granger said softly, putting her glass aside and leaning forward, "We challenge what needs to be challenged, using whatever we have at our disposal. Pansy is responsible for making us behave as legitimate as we initially aimed to be. Luna heads up our legal team and Neville shapes our numerous education and training programmes designed to help anyone the ministry has systematically cut out of their reforms over the last twelve years. Meanwhile Ron keeps on good terms with the ministry and other muggle authorities while Shin and I experiment in our lab."

"Yes, and while we're doing all the boring work Potter is busy shagging and shooting his way around the world." Pansy said with a smirk.

"Shooting?" Draco asked, deliberately focussing on one part of that sentence. He wasn't sure he could abide the rest. 

"I have friends in MI6." Potter explained with a touch of exasperation, adding for the sake of Draco's clueless expression, "The muggle international security services." he sipped from his drink, a high flush starting to gather across his cheeks from the alcohol, "We've had reason to work together in the past and sometimes magic isn't always appropriate."

"Harry has access to the shooting range at the MoD and a couple of friends as fucked up and poorly behaved as he is." Pansy smirked, dark eyes glittering, "How is Alec by the way?"

"Much better now you've tore your claws out of him." Harry retorted, matching her smirk.

"He loves my claws." 

"How you spend your time is really no interest of mine." Potter's drawl matched Pansy's, intense green eyes drifting down towards Draco, "Regardless of what my role is, I believe you could contribute to our work. Ultimately we're an agency and most of what we do is extremely dangerous. We walk a delicate line between undermining and subverting the ministry legally and basically committing daily acts of terrorism."

"One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter." Draco intoned, crawling away from Pansy to collect the bottle of whiskey left abandoned on the coffee table, unable to take his eyes from Potter who was doing nothing but sitting there, talking, "What are you offering me?"

Potter's expression darkened as he watched Draco drink, "Atonement." 

Draco ran his tongue along his lips, he was feeling heavy, warm, and aroused, "What makes you think I'm interested in that? I made my peace."

"How regularly do you drink yourself to sleep?" Potter returned. 

Draco carefully lowered the bottle, "What's your point?"

"We all have our demons." Potter shrugged fluidly and gods that sort of casual sexiness ought to be illegal, "You're too clever and too driven to be satisfied by following the rules. With us you can actually change things." his lips twitched into a smile, "We're offering you an out Draco. I suggest that you take it."

Draco's eyes narrowed and he glared at Potter, "You've never called me Draco before."

"I've never been this nice to you before either." 

"No." he agreed, suddenly suspicious, "Why should I trust you?"

Potter grinned, though his eyes remained hard, "Is this where I make some sort of plea?"

"Ordinarily." Draco drawled.

"Ordinary." Potter hummed the word and some of his magic must have been carried with it because Draco felt a rush of heat shimmer across his skin, settling across the nape of his neck like a caress, "Ordinary is dull, Draco. I gave up on that a long, long time ago. I think it would be best if you did the same."

That heat slipped down Draco's spine, sneaking around the sensitive skin of his hips and stomach. Draco gulped and held back a shudder. Potter was doing it, somehow. Draco was certain. Wandless magic, unlike anything he'd ever encountered before.

"If you want me Potter, just say so." it was supposed to be a biting retort but it came out as something more breathless and infinitely more literal than intended. 

Potter eyes were glittering, "I want you Draco." 

Longbottom sneezed and the moment suddenly shattered. Draco blinked, thoroughly confused about what just happened. Potter's heat seeped away as though reluctant and Draco retreated to his place near Pansy. 

"I'll take the job, and the room." he was impressed at how steady his voice sounded, glancing at everyone before daring himself to meet Potter's eyes once again, "Thank you for the offer."

"Good." Potter nodded, abruptly standing up, "Luna put some bloody music on. We're celebrating."

Champagne was pulled from somewhere and Draco found himself welcomed into the fold without any apparent hesitation. Granger snagged him early on and gave an intimidating overview of everything she was working on with Shin. It was frankly staggering and it made Draco nervous. He doubted it would feel real until he was in their offices and settled in Potter's house.

Potter's house. Gods, he was going to be housemates with Potter, his terrifying new boss. Gasping for air, Draco agreed to get the next round of drinks and sucked down a glass of water somewhat desperately. Loud muggle music pounded through the hallway, accompanied by the raucous cheering of PWG's most important executives.

The cool water helped him take stock. There was still the work with Susan, he was certain they would let him pursue that independently. And Granger was eager to see the application of some of the theories he'd been playing around with in his spare time. As of Monday he could focus on what he enjoyed, what he wanted, instead of simply doing what his family expected of him. A weight already seemed to be lifting. 

"Are you okay?" 

Draco spun around. Shin was standing nearby, dropping a used bottle of beer into a bin. They had hardly been alone this evening, which was somewhat disappointing, considering Shin was responsible for him being here in the first place.

"Yes." he reassured, "A little overwhelmed, I suppose."

"They are an intense group of people." Shin said with a little smile.

"Do you live here?" Draco asked, because it was bothering him and the champagne bubbles had softened the link between his mind and his mouth. 

He nodded, "I do."

"With Potter?"

"Occasionally."

"I thought this was his house?" Draco's mind was simply slowing down too much to even articulate let alone work out another of Potter's ambiguities.

"It is...but Harry is rarely around." Shin collected another bottle of champagne from the fridge and removed the cork with a light application of magic, "His work keeps him abroad most of the time, and when he's in London it's usually spent catching up at the office or keeping his mind, or body, otherwise occupied."

"So you aren't together? As in-a couple?"

Shin smiled though there was a touch of sadness in his expression, "No, we are not."

Draco picked up his newly refilled glass, "Good. Potter is a complete arse."

"Not the sort of thing you should be saying about your new boss." Potter suddenly appeared in the kitchen, so abruptly Draco jumped a foot in the air.

"Bloody hell Potter! Were you fucking spying?!"

Potter had unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, and his waistcoat was loose. Jet black hair returned to its usual untameable state. Golden skin lightly flushed from drink. 

"Of course I was spying." Potter shrugged and Draco was genuinely beginning to worry about how sensitive he was to Potter's seemingly endless well of sexual energy, "Bad habits and all that."

Draco's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "I'm not going to betray you Potter."

"I know." Potter took the bottle from Shin with a small, fond smile.

"What do you mean you know?" Draco demanded, getting to the end of his tether with this arrogant arsehole. 

"I mean I'd kill you first." and with another bland smile he walked back to the impromptu party, calling out for someone to fetch the cards. 

Draco ran his fingers through his hair and looked sidelong at Shin, who wouldn't quite meet his eyes. Great. So not a hollow threat then. Brilliant. Not only was Potter his former nemesis, but now his dangerously sexy, sociopathic housemate slash boss who wouldn't hesitate to kill him should circumstances demand it.

Well, at least it was only a small step up from their old dynamic. 

Draco decided that if Potter could cope with it, then so could he. With that settled he gestured to Shin that the party was over there, and he would be part of it. This was his new life after all. Better to just get on with it.


	4. Chapter 4

The first week at PWG was completely and utterly exhausting. It didn't help that he woke up the day before he was supposed to start blinded by blaring sunshine and curled up with Pans in what appeared to be Potter's deep, claw footed iron bath with a headache so severe he was sure he was about to suffer a stroke. 

With some difficulty he managed to drag himself out, unworried about waking Pans who slept liked the dead. Grasping a glass, he gulped back some water, promptly threw it back up again and feeling shamed enough for one morning attempted disapparation only to be rebounded on some severe, industrial grade wards. Muttering under his breath about stupid dares and even stupider card games, he made slow progress through the house. 

Dressed only in a pair of jeans, Draco briefly considered trying to collect the rest of his clothes from where they had been tossed around the living room in a lively game of Strip Snap ("Not always enough time for a slow seduction in our line of work" Potter had confided, leaning over, heat radiating across Draco's bare skin) but as he was planning to return with the rest of his possessions in a few hours, simply gave it up as a bad job. 

Thoroughly disorientated, he took a wrong turn in the long, dark hallway and found himself in the kitchen. Where he was met with the confusing, stomach twisting sight of Potter with his tongue down Shin's throat. It looked like Potter had been out already, dressed in a dripping wet black vest top and a pair of clinging black shorts frequently worn by runners that left nothing to the imagination. Shin was backed onto the kitchen table, clearly giving up the fight for dominance when Potter pushed him back and swept his arm across the surface, sending everything on it crashing to the floor. 

"Fuck!" the clamour sent sharp jabs of pain through Draco's head and he froze. Suddenly caught out. 

"Draco." Potter's voice was a confusing combination of terse and amused, "I thought everyone was gone."

"I was in the bath." Merlin his voice was dry, "With Pans."

"You have a suite at the Savoy and you spent the night sleeping in my bath?" Potter's hand swept down Shin's back, and he took a step away, Shin shuffling uncomfortably. Unable to meet Draco's eye. 

"I didn't tell you that." Draco accused, scowling at Potter. Potter's stupid sweaty skin. Potter's stupid superior attitude. Potter's fucking huge erection which he wasn't making a single attempt to disguise.

Potter simply looked at him and he groaned.

"Fucking spies!" he coughed, "Don't suppose you've got any hangover potion about? I left my own back at the manor."

"We do." 

Potter didn't move.

"And?"

"And what?"

"This is the part where you either behave like a gracious host and get it for me yourself, or act like a half arsed one and tell me where I can find it." Draco hissed, voice levelling out on a creaky growl and another long coughing fit. 

Potter twinkled at him, "All you had to do was ask." and he turned around to rifle through some cupboards. Twinkled. Potter twinkled. With the outline of an arse that looked capable of crushing rocks to dust. Draco looked sidelong at Shin who was watching him closely. Full lips kissed out, neat hair ruffled up and looking frankly bloody adorable.

"Here." 

A small vial was thrust under his nose and Draco grabbed it with a scowl, "Thank you."

"No problem." his smile was infuriating, as was the semi he was still shamelessly sporting, "I'm not sure who'll be around later to help you move, but I'll adjust the wards to let you in."

Draco threw back the hangover potion, it was clean, crisp with a very pleasant minty after taste. Relieved as the potion took the edge off, the world settled back into focus and Potter's offer moved away from the realms of farcical to real.

"So it still stands?" Draco asked, worried at just how vulnerable he sounded. How quickly he expected it all to be taken away. 

The twinkle in Potter's eye faded, he grew more serious, stance shifting into something stronger and more certain, "Yes Draco. It still stands."

He nodded, "Good."

Potter frowned, he appeared on the verge of saying something else when something started ringing, "Excuse me." 

Gently placing a hand on Draco's hip, Potter moved him aside and collected the same muggle device Shin used the other day from a side table in the hallway. Feeling a need to apologise for his interruption, Draco held up the empty vial and addressed his very soon to be new housemate, "Nice touch with the mint."

Shin smiled a little, "It complicates making the potion itself but I think it's a fair trade off between purpose and presentation."

"Possibly the most Japanese thing you've said to date." Draco grinned, then groaned when light bounced off some abandoned cutlery on the floor, "I'm going to leave now. I'll be back later this evening."

After sleeping off the rest of his hangover back at the hotel, Draco ate steak in bed, packed haphazardly with his wand and returned via Floo to Grimmauld Place. Shin was curled up in a chair reading when he returned and Potter was nowhere to be found. Still feeling too delicate to engage in anything more significant than small talk, Draco was relieved to be deposited in his new room with a sly promise from Shin that they would be going to work together in the morning.

Morning. Barely. Shin knocked at the door at five-there were potions that needed to be taken off stasis in the lab within the hour or week's worth of work would be undone, apparently-and after a shower taken while mostly still sleeping, he managed to pull on some clothes and shuffle downstairs to the fire. Shin looked smartly dressed and alert, eyeing Draco with some amusement.

"Come along. There's plenty to do." 

Yet another one of the many understatements he was beginning to understand Shin traded in. Despite its cool, corporate surface PWG was a busy office, and it seemed it only got worse when Potter was around.

As leading partners Weasley and Granger commanded respect, especially from their immediate staff. It was impossible to work alongside them and not be inspired by their smart decisions and tireless dedication. Granger's brilliance was obvious. Weasley's was more subtle. It wasn't until Draco had watched him pit one ministry official against the other during a routine tour-see inspection- of their offices, that Draco began to reconcile the teenage oaf with the boy that had once taken command of an enchanted chess game at the age of eleven and won. 

It was different with Potter. His regular long term absences, the mysterious, seemingly glamorous nature of his position meant that the moment he stepped foot in PWG there was an automatic, low level clamour for his attention. The three piece suit was not, as Draco hoped and prayed, a one off but the first of many exquisite outfits that continued to underpin Potter's unnervingly sexual masculinity. Draco had hardly been a monk over the years and he'd slept with his fair share of handsome witches and wizards, but he was hard pressed to keep his eyes averted and mouth shut each time Potter walked into a room. 

Cupping a mug between both hands, Draco wandered back from the break room in something of a daze, his mind running through a thousand and one different calculations as he sought to find a stabilising agent in the new poison he was developing. Halfway there he was captured and turned around by Pansy, one hand deftly tucked under his arm.

"Where are we going?" he asked, bemused and a little disgruntled.

"Harry's training his junior agents." she said in a low voice and now Draco was more awake, he realised that the rest of the company seemed to be rushing towards the training room as well, "It's always a hell of a show."

Another PWG understatement. It was probably the single most arousing display Draco had ever witnessed, and he was including that time Blaise had taken him to a high class muggle strip club and his lap had been fully occupied by one luscious blonde and a smoothly oiled, nubile young man one after another. Then at the same time. It had gotten a bit out of hand after that.

Taking their place near the front of the crowd, Draco took in the scene. Potter stood in the middle of the duelling ring, seven of his trainees spread out evenly around him. Dressed all in black, a tight shirt , durable looking trousers that clung to every inch of muscle tucked into sturdy shin high boots. Sipping from his tea, Draco watched as Potter raised one hand, calling everyone to silence. The chattering ceased immediately.

"For those of you new to PWG, what you're about to witness is the culmination of one year of training." his voice was cool and measured, arms crossed over his chest, legs shoulder width apart, "This year we have seven survivors." his lips curled in a wry smile as he swept his eyes across the four young people directly in his eyeline, before returning his rapt audience, "PWG prides itself on only allowing the smartest, most versatile of agents into the field. Forget Auror training. We designed an entire programme with the single aim of blowing apart comfort zones, pushing each person to their own unique edge leaving them with no choice but to rebuild or give up. Needless to say few make it this far."

He shook his arms out and shifted his attention to the seven still standing. Three men, four women, dressed similarly to Potter-with considerably less panache-gazing at their leader steadily. Draco was curious how many had started, and just what devilish schemes Potter, Weasley and Granger had devised to ensure they had only the most elite left standing. 

"I am unarmed and alone. The only thing you have to do is stun me." across the crowd he sought out Granger, inclined his head, and immediately dived out of the way as seven spells flew in his direction, not a single one landing. The rest bouncing off a quickly conjured field charm, protecting the rest of the audience. 

Seven minutes. Draco counted them. One minute per opponent, and Draco rather suspected Potter was holding back a little. He didn't steal anyone's wand, didn't use any of that wild magic always prickling so near to the surface. The lesson seemed to be just how dangerous it was to underestimate your enemy. Moving like a particularly vicious dancer, Potter used each of his own opponents like a weapon. Setting them up to fire spells at one another and taking advantage of their momentary lapse to disable them with a deft flick of the wrist, throwing each wand outside the duelling circle. Without the security of a wand, they were forced to rely on muggle fighting techniques. It was a little disconcerting how little faith they showed in this form of defence, making it desperately easy for Potter to fling them out of the circle like an afterthought.

With each of their number that was lost, the steady confidence of the trainees started to wane. Spellwork became sloppy and unnecessarily violent, while Potter kept up exactly the same pace, a fast, graceful prowl that was making Draco uncomfortable in the trouser department. The last two teamed up, keeping Potter in their eyeline and just they were about to start firing Potter suddenly changed tactics and ran at them. The shock of having their target charge their way, regardless of the spells they were aiming had the desired effect. They paused. Potter grabbed the arm of the girl and swung her round to knock out the boy she'd been left with. Two trainees one stone. 

Then Potter was alone. Returning to the centre of the duelling circle. Arms crossed, gently flushed and scarcely out of breath while the junior agents gazed at him with an understandable combination of irritation, shame, awe and a healthy dose of fear.

"Now. Would anyone like to explain to me what went wrong?" he questioned, surveying everyone.

"Why didn't you use magic?" one of Pansy's PR girls called from the back instead. 

"Depending on magic to solve each problem in the field would be foolish in the extreme." Potter answered seriously, dark eyes searching her, "You don't have magic."

"No." the girl asserted, "I'm 'Muggle'." 

Potter smiled at her tone, "Then you explain to all the magic users in this room why relying on a wand in a combat situation can occasionally be more of a hindrance than a help." 

"Because you think a wand automatically makes you better than someone without magic." her voice was steady, and confident, "And there are other agents out there trained to exploit weakness no matter what it is."

"Absolutely right." he nodded, flashed a small smile and returned his attention to the rest of the room, his junior agents in particular, "Remember why we went to war in the first place all those years ago. An assumption that someone with magic was above someone without. You don't need to subscribe to Voldemort's fanatic ideology to accept that the majority of magic users are lazy about their gifts. Developing magical solutions instead of pragmatic ones." that searing green gaze swept across the room, "If I have to listen to another exclamation about how clever it is that muggles have invented e-mail to compensate for not having a Patronus I will put a dampener on this office and make you all work without until that patronising attitude has been well and truly reformed."

"As long as you aren't concerned about a dip in productivity." Pansy suggested with a sly smile. 

"It'll be worth it." Potter retorted, "Now I believe we all have work to do."

Accepting the dismissal, everyone started to shuffle away. Potter had already called his trainees over and was explaining in detail what their mistakes were. Draco clutched Pansy's elbow and hissed into her ear, "Fuck. Pans. That was the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

She hushed him, "Draco!"

"Seriously. When did Potter become my walking wet dream?"

"Not just yours darling." Pansy murmured, taking advantage of the nervous chatter to slip her arm in Draco's so they could incline their heads more discreetly, "I really wasn't exaggerating when I said Harry shags his way around the world. He can have anyone and he frequently does."

Draco bit his lip and cast one glance over his shoulder, Potter was talking to the girl that had challenged the wizards in the room. He was smiling. 

"I saw him kissing Shin last week." Draco confessed, tearing his eyes away so he could look at Pans who was watching him with a look in her eye he didn't like, "Why would he be doing that when he has a 'secret lover'."

"Shin and Harry have a complicated relationship." Pans said, her lips pulling into a tight line, "Ron and Hermione used to lecture him about his behaviour, but the censure of his friends only made things worse. Shin is different. He accepts Harry on his terms and in return Harry gives Shin everything he could ever need."

"Apart from his love." Draco said softly.

"Harry Potter doesn't love." Pansy said softly, "Not anymore."

Draco sipped from his mug of tea, still warm, and slipped off back to his lab. Potter wouldn't love anyone. It made sense. Almost dying was a regular occurrence. He was probably extremely dangerous. Yes, much too dangerous and Draco was quite done with all that nonsense. Work, there was so much work to do. 

If his mind strayed to muscular thighs and lethal displays of grace on more than one occasion there was really nothing to be done about it.

\--

"-do that!"

"-have to-"

"I don't know what else to do!"

"You trust me to handle it!"

"Harry! It's not-"

Draco rapped his knuckles on the glass door, "If I'm interrupting anything...?"

Potter's head snapped round, as did the man he was arguing with. They both looked surprised to see him standing there. Potter's irritated expression instantly smoothed out into neutrality. The other man gazed at him steadily, though there was a telltale flush along his high cheekbones.

"Draco, I'd like to introduce you to Myrddin Ambrosius." Potter's voice was warm though professional, "He should be able to give us some guidance on how to proceed with the sword we found in your vault."

Myrddin smiled blindingly, holding out his hand to shake it, "Draco. Lovely to meet you."

His fingers were long, and strong, his shake enthusiastic, "Hi." he looked at Potter who was watching them both closely, "If I'm interrupting something I can always come back."

"Oh there was nothing to interrupt." Myrddin waved the comment away, "Harry was just being obstinate as usual."

Potter rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

"You shut up." his tone was teasing, expression fond and they stared at one another for slightly longer than was necessary, sharing a silent conversation so loud Draco could hear it buzzing in his ears. The spell broke when Potter moved, easing out the tension in his shoulders by rolling them once slowly. Draco averted his eyes. He could feel the coiled power shifting beneath Potter's skin, changing the climate in the room. It had an ozone tang. Like lightening had just struck. 

"If it's okay with you Draco, we were planning on skipping the formal part of our trip to Gringotts. As far as they're aware we destroyed the chest and I don't want to draw any unnecessary attention." Potter explained, all business again.

"Makes sense." he shrugged, "Though I do feel obliged to point out that you aren't supposed to be able to just walk in without the help of a goblin." 

"Technicalities." Potter shrugged, reaching round to slip his hands on his elbow and Myrddin's, "This will be a little uncomfortable."

Understatement. Draco felt like his body was being grated and twisted as Potter led them all through Gringott's ancient and intricate wards. When they landed Draco immediately collapsed on the damp floor, head ringing. 

"Merlin's fucking beard!." he groaned, Myrddin turning round, looking expectant and mildly bemused, until he realised that Draco was just in pain, "What the fuck was that Potter?!"

"It was us slipping through the spaces in the wards." Potter had his arms stretched out above his head, "I wasn't sure I'd be able to get three of us through."

Draco raised his head up from where it had landed against his chest and glared, "What would have happened if you couldn't?"

"We would have burned up." Myrddin looked at Potter disapprovingly.

"Nonsense." Potter waved the comment away before holding out his hand to Draco, "Can you stand?"

Draco glared some more, before throwing his hand up for Potter to take. In one smooth step he'd been pulled up, the momentum forcing him to fall directly into Potter's chest. It was solid. Potter's skin warm. And the smell of him, something spicy and tangy like blood and magic making him dizzy all over again.

"Are you okay?" Potter's voice drifted across his ear and Draco shivered.

"I think so." he reluctantly pulled away, "Let's go."

Potter gestured that he was happy to follow and Draco took a moment to orientate himself. They had landed too deep, alongside the very oldest vaults. Older even than the Malfoy's. It was cold down here, he rubbed his arms, aware of the few torches to light the way. Behind him he could only hear one set of footsteps. Looking over his shoulder there were definitely two people at his back. Potter had simply eliminated sound. Not with magic. The muggle way. By stepping lightly, his body weight perfectly distributed. 

"Where did you learn to do all this Potter?" Draco asked.

"Do what?"

"I always thought of you as a soldier...but covert operations, martial arts, breaking through ancient wards." he glanced over his shoulder, observing Potter's dark suit, his glasses glinting in the uneven torchlight, "It's different from what I imagined you would be come."

"Which was what, precisely?" there wasn't any censure in his tone, only curiosity.

"I don't know." he shrugged, "Auror I suppose. Or a teacher. The DA were formidable during the war."

Potter flashed a smile, it was warm and playful, "Why do you think I recruited most of them to PWG?"

"Their loyalty." Draco decided, turning a corner, "But you haven't answered my question."

"The answer is long and complicated." Potter replied, "Dumbledore groomed me as a child soldier. From the age of eleven I was facing darkness and danger...by the time I'd dismantled the Death Eater network it was too late. There was no way I'd be able to settle down into an ordinary life."

They fell still outside Draco's vault and he peered closely at Potter, "So you embraced it?"

"It was that or try and force myself into a shape I couldn't fit anymore." Potter replied, "Marriage, a house, a family. It would have suffocated me and I would have been crippled with shame and PTSD for the rest of my life."

Draco rested his hand on the lock, "Granger wasn't exaggerating was she? When she said PWG keeps you all sane?" 

"No. We need the mission. To strive for something. If we stop we collapse." there was a wry curl to Potter's lip, "Something we all learned the hard way."

Nodding, Draco smiled, "Thank you for sharing that with me." and the vault sprung open. Dank air rushed against Draco's face and they stepped in, the sword in the stone standing where it had been left. As though it belonged there. 

Myrddin made a small, strangled noise in his throat and rushed forward. Draco was about to cry out, recalling what happened to the goblin, but when Myrddin's long fingers reached out to the hilt nothing happened. 

Potter stepped up beside Myrddin, "Is it real?"

"Gods, yes." Myrddin breathed, turning to Potter, tears shimmering in his eyes, "You know what this means?"

"Something terrible is about to happen."

"Something wonderful." 

Potter shook his head, "Destiny isn't wonderful Em." 

"No." Myrddin murmured, "I supposed it isn't."

Potter reached out and rested a hand on Myrddin's shoulder. Making a huffing noise, Myrddin slipped one arm around Potter's waist and curled up against his side. Potter's hand drifting up and down his back, the two of them murmuring together in low voices. Draco was almost certain that they weren't speaking English. Deciding that this really wasn't any of his business, Draco slunk over to some of the Malfoy treasures. Picking up an old crown, he slipped it onto his head and wiped some grime off an old mirror to see how it looked. 

Potter snorted a laugh at Draco's attempt at a kingly pose.

"Oh shut it." Draco flung a stray ruby in Potter's direction that was caught, of course, fucking Seeker reflexes.

"The crown suits you." Myrddin sounded impressed, slipping out of Potter's arms and picking among what else there was, "Harry come here. Put this on."

Rolling his eyes Potter did as he was asked,puttng the ruby back down on the side. Myrddin carefully placed another circlet on Potter's head. It was pale gold, with intricate engravings, glittering with ancient gemstones and forgotten power. Myrddin manoeuvred Potter so they stood in the mirror side by side. Draco's crown was simple and dignified, the dark gold a suggestion against his pale blonde hair. It was a light but permanent suggestion of influence. Potter, on the other hand, was naturally imposing. Green eyes looking straight ahead, the latent promise of violence matched by the crown he wore shimmering dark bright against the wild waves of his jet black hair.

"Princes among men." Myrddin intoned. 

"No..." Draco looked sidelong at Potter's whose attention had shifted back to the sword, "Potter's a king."

Myrddin's eyes were sharp, his lips tight as he appraised Draco, "And you are not?"

"Potter leads men." Draco said quietly, watching as Potter stepped back toward Excalibur, "When we were at war I can't explain to you how important it was that he live."

"That was a long time ago Draco." Potter's voice was distracted, "We all did what we had to. You were no different."

"I was a coward."

"You made a choice to keep your family alive."

"I made a choice to keep me alive and people died in the process."

"People were always going to die." Potter hitched up onto the stone, "We were children Malfoy. We were supposed to be protected by the adults we trusted but instead they forced us onto the frontline for their own selfish reasons."

"Dumbledore loved you."

"And your father loves you." Potter wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword, "Be that as it may, you were asked to kill Dumbledore to teach your father a lesson. Dumbledore raised me to die. To do more than that-to accept and embrace death so I would walk into it with open arms." he pulled and the sword suddenly released from the stone, a long, gleaming strip of steel that hurt Draco's eyes to look at, "The only thing we can do now is accept the damage they left and live our own way."

He hopped down from the stone, holding out Excalibur, swinging it through the air, "This is a beautiful weapon."

"It isn't yours." Myrddin said, some tension in his voice, "You can't keep it."

Potter's eyes grew heavy lidded as he appraised Myrddin, sword held steadily with both hands, body slipping into a combat ready position. That crown glittering on his brow. Gods he looked impressive. 

"Who says I want to keep it?" Potter questioned, "I have enough ancient artefacts in my life."

Myrddin's full lips twitched in a small smile. Draco sensed there was a joke he was missing out on.

"You shouldn't have been able to remove it." Myrddin observed.

"No." Potter agreed, lowering the sword and reaching a hand out so it brushed along Myrddin's hip, "How curious."

A belt with a scabbard appeared on Myrddin's hips and Draco watched uncomfortably as Potter slowly slid Excalibur into the sheath. They gazed at one another, blue on green, as metal hissed softly against worn leather, Potter's fingers trailing up the length of the hilt before drawing away. Myrddin was watching him with bright, clear focus. Lips parted. Breath a little shallow. 

Potter turned to Draco, eyes dark, "I believe we have what we came for."

"Yes." Draco went to remove the crown when Potter reached out and grasped his wrist, "What?"

"Em was right. The crown suits you."

"I can't exactly wear it around the office."

"No-but you can wear it at home." Potter gave him a crooked smile before tugging his off without fanfare and heading out of the vault. Draco looked at Myrddin who half smiled at him, gently resting his fingers on the back of Draco's hand before following. Sighing, confused and a little aroused Draco did the same, glad to lock away these ridiculous family treasures. Hoping it would be a long time before he rested his eyes on them again.


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh _fuck_!-There-right- _oh_!"

Merlin's entire body shuddered as orgasm snapped across his body in one long rush of searing heat and pleasure. A lamp nearby exploded. Harry hissed into his neck and bit down as another sudden, brutal thrust sent them careening off the bed. Before he found breath to utter a comment, Merlin's hips were pulled up and Harry carried on, hissing as climax set him alight. Magic swirled around them. Gold, restless and startlingly clear.

Together they collapsed onto the floor in a flushed sweaty heap, limbs all tangled up together as they sought to get their breath back.

"Fuck." Harry muttered, rolling onto his back and tugging Merlin onto his chest, "Fuck."

Merlin hummed agreement, stretching out luxuriously before settling back against Harry's strong body, mumbling against his chest, "Magic's gone."

"Hmm?" Harry peeled back one eyelid, "So it is."

Too sated to move, they stayed on the floor and dozed for a little while. When the cold started to settle in Merlin moved, spelling away the semen dripping down his thighs. It seemed no matter how often they fucked, Harry always came like a race horse. Merlin supposed he ought to take it as a compliment. Fixing the lamp with a wave of his hand, Merlin poured them both another glass of champagne and rested his fingers against Excalibur's hilt where it lay perfectly innocuous on the table.

Warm arms slipped around his waist and Merlin melted into Harry's embrace, holding up his glass for Harry to sip from, "Arthur has to be back."

"I know. We've been looking for him." Harry nuzzled his neck with lips and teeth before pulling away, "Although it's not the easiest task in the world."

Merlin turned in Harry's arms, "What I'm not certain of is why the sword turned up in Draco's vault of all places."

Taking the glass from the table, Harry slipped his hand in Merlin's and pulled him back towards the messy bed they'd abandoned, "I think it was all the royal paraphernalia. The Malfoy's genuinely do descend from an abandoned line of kings."

"Like attracts like." Merlin murmured in agreement, "Though he's a dragon as well. That must mean something."

"Or it's a perfect coincidence." Harry disagreed, pulling Merlin between his legs so they were sitting back to chest.

"He likes you, you know." Merlin said, his voice a little hesitant because he wasn't sure if he could entrust Harry to anyone else at the moment.

"Who?" there was the sound of a cigarette being lit, "Draco?"

"Yes." Merlin sipped from his drink and with a twitch of his fingers the duvet cover jumped up from the floor to cover the lower half of his body.

"He likes the idea of me." Harry dismissed, holding the cigarette out for Merlin to take, "You heard how he was talking."

Merlin took a slow drag of the cigarette and melted further back against Harry's firm chest, "Whether you like it or not Harry you were, are, a living symbol of hope. You will always be perceived on some level as a construct...I think you'll find I'm no different."

Harry made a small humming noise in agreement, sipping from his drink, "Yes, your Chocolate Frog Card really doesn't do you any justice."

Merlin snorted a laugh and handed Harry back the cigarette, "Even so. I think you're not giving Draco enough credit. He's in awe of you, a little, but quite frankly who isn't?" Merlin twisted round so he could look at Harry properly, "I think he could give you more than just a pleasurable fuck...I think he could match you."

"And what would I do with a match?" Harry asked softly, trailing one calloused finger along Merlin's sharp cheekbone, "There are certain things I need in my life to remain stable and none of them fall into a category that allows for the development of a healthy relationship."

"What we have is healthy." Merlin contested.

"And it took us eight years to reach this point." Harry took another drag of his cigarette, expression warm and fond, "You are my friend and confident Em. I trust you with my life."

"So do I." Merlin's voice was low, and fiercely devoted.

"Yes." Potter smiled, "But we are not a couple and that suits us both perfectly, I think."

Merlin twisted his lips and reluctantly conceded, "The difference, Harry, is that I swore my life to another over a millennia ago. You are just a selfish hedonist unwilling to make any further human connection."

"I have human connection." Harry replied, taking Merlin's glass of champagne and moving it to the bedside table, dropping the remains of his cigarette into it, "I just can't settle into a relationship with one person. Not anymore. My life is too dangerous and expectations too high." he kissed Merlin's neck, "My lovers have a nasty habit of being murdered Em. It isn't fair."

Merlin sighed and curled up again, kissing the griffin tattoo, lips and tongue curling around one dark nipple, "I worry for you Harry." he looked up and twisted round, so he could straddle his lap, "Your magic calls to me, like for like, and I can't stand the thought of it twisting around you until you become cold and irreparably broken. I've witnessed what happens when love is shattered by fear and isolation into hatred."

"So have I." Harry ran his fingers through Merlin's thick dark hair and pulled him down for a kiss, "I don't want to be a monster, but I can't be naive enough to hope that love will just solve everything. I need to act, I need to save people." his strong hands moved down Merlin's back, one finger slipping into his hole, testing how loose he was, "I fight, I kill and I seduce. I couldn't ask anyone to accept that."

Merlin sighed as he rocked back against Harry's fingers, "I just think you should give someone a chance, and I think Draco might have what it takes to endure the life you lead."

Harry hummed against Merlin's skin, "Perhaps." but he was already nudging his hard cock against Merlin's hole and the conversation came to its natural end.

\--

The next morning Merlin woke to an empty bed. Harry rarely stayed over. His nightmares were too extreme for it to be safe for any of his lovers. The first time he'd been woken by Harry's ragged screams Merlin tried to wake him-a mistake he hadn't made again. He reached out and grasped his shoulder, hoping to firmly jolt him out of whatever horrors were happening in his head. The screaming stopped and Harry's training kicked in. Merlin was flung back against the sheets, straddled, one hand tight on his throat while the other summoned his wand. Frightened and unnerved by Harry's blank eyes and vicious snarl, Merlin went limp, aware that every movement would provoke a dangerous response. Harry believed he was under attack, Merlin had to convince him that he wasn't a threat.

Gently resting one hand on Harry's wrist, Merlin sent a surge of comforting magic up his arm and the warmth seemed to snap him out of the nightmare. Astonished and ashamed Harry pulled his hand back and scrabbled away, breathless with fear, the adrenaline crash compounding everything else he was already feeling. Murmuring soothing nonsense Merlin pulled Harry into an embrace, shivering, sweating, and almost crying. They had fallen back into bed, Harry murmuring apologies against Merlin's skin until the fear of the nightmare faded, lost to fierce kisses and the heady intoxication of desperate fucking.

Sighing, Merlin stretched against the sheets, his body sore and used. He'd be feeling last night for days. Rolling out of bed he headed to the shower, sparing a moment to caress the hilt of Excalibur. It felt familiar. It's magic brushing tenderly against his.

Taking his time, Merlin washed his hair slowly and sighed in relief as he felt his muscles settle back into their usual tension. Nights with Harry were always something to remember, but occasionally they took their toll emotionally as much as physically. Merlin wasn't in love with Harry, and Harry wasn't in love with him but it was a very near thing. Over the last millennia Merlin had been with others, loved them, cared for them, but Harry was the only person beside Arthur that had made his magic sing.

During the war he'd been travelling. Deep in the Amazonian rain forest, letting the old world soak into his skin as much as the humidity. By the time he returned the ministry was shattered and there was a new hero that everyone spoke of with a reverence that bordered on disturbing. Harry was a boy. Who had fought against impossible odds and won-but at far too steep a cost.

The photographs of him from those early days were burned into Merlin's memory. He'd been slight. A year of hard living having taken its toll. Untameable hair, a grim set to the mouth and a gaze so fierce it bordered on regal. There were echoes of Arthur in the set of his shoulders that Merlin fixated on for months before making the decision to track him down.

The timing, as it turned out, couldn't have been worse. Harry was just back from a mission in Russia that had gone very badly. A team of four went out and only Harry survived-dragging their mark with them at the cost of everything else. Merlin's magic pulled him out into the non magic world, to a private club, where Harry was in the middle of some truly impressive debauchery.

A private booth set away from the dance floor, three men, one black, one blonde, one brunette in varying styles. The black man was lean and beautiful with pale almond eyes. The brunette was ripped, his body beautifully honed. The blond was somewhere in the middle and at the time of Merlin's arrival busy with his lips wrapped around Harry's cock. Merlin had seen hundreds of displays like it over the years, but the darkness swirling around Harry, the fierce restless surge of his magic was hypnotic and disturbing. There was a glass of whiskey at his lips and he was watching the boy on his knees with vicious pleasure, cheeks flushed, before he knocked it back, shoved the glass aside and reached out, pulling the brunette over for a domineering kiss with his other hand buried in the black boys trousers moving in a rhythmic, unmistakable fashion.

Merlin tried to move, but his magic wouldn't let him. Literally wouldn't. Instead it reached out before he could stop it, winding against Harry's. Who looked up. A bright flash of emerald green that made Merlin's stomach twist with an uncertain combination of fear and arousal. Merlin had walked the earth free of threat of hundreds of years. No one-not even the Dark Lord, or Albus Dumbledore-had been close to Merlin's magic. They were wizards. Delicately honed, measured and regulated. Merlin's magic came from nature. As did Harry's. Drawn from somewhere deep, free of rules and neat tidy little controls. Merlin had never doubted his immortality until that moment. Until it crossed his mind that Harry could take it away. If he so desired.

Gulping, he tried to turn away. Coming here was a mistake.

As he moved, determined to leave, Harry's magic reached out to him, a beautiful surge of heat that spread across his skin. Merlin shuddered and moaned. By the time he'd had enough sense to come back to himself Harry had cast off his three boys, all of whom looked distinctly pissed off at their dismissal. Dressed in a black t-shirt, a leather jacket and battered biker boots with a wand strapped to a holster at his hip, glamoured so non-magical people wouldn't see it, looking nothing less than predatory.

Skipping conversation altogether Harry had wrapped on arm around Merlin's waist and tugged him close, taking his lips and kissing him completely breathless. Their magic danced and swirled around them disrupting the electricity in the club and setting all the fire alarms off. Harry grinned, quick and feral, and disapparated them away in the confusion. Merlin just fell beneath the assault. It was literally the best fuck he'd had in centuries.

Once he was done Harry magicked his clothes on and left without a backwards glance, so deep in grief and anger he barely acknowledged Merlin and the small number of fires they'd set off in the middle of their frantic coupling. Irritated and mostly disappointed, Merlin decided it was sensible to treat it as a one off. Harry vanished for months on another string of self destructive missions to atone for the lives that had been lost. Their next encounter was entirely accidental.

Merlin stepped out of the shower and searched his wardrobe for something suitably inappropriate to wear in PWG's corporate offices. Settling on a pair of tight jeans he knew would distract Harry enough to punish him for it later, and a loose white t-shirt with the faded image of a dragon, paired with a battered old blazer he was quite fond of to finish the picture. Picking up Excalibur, he shifted across London, materialising in what he was certain had to be Harry's office. There were weapons lying around and messy paper all over the glass desk. That, and the wards accepted him without question.

Taking a moment to appreciate the view over the river, Merlin twirled round on one foot and reached out to find him. As a rule Merlin was sensitive to most magical people and he smiled a little as he took in the feel of all the witches and wizards going about their business. Harry was always easy to pick out. If the lovely resonant surge of his magic didn't do it, the shouting certainly would.

"I will not stay here!"

"I am not taking you with me!" Harry shouted.

"It's not your choice!"

"Yes it is!" Harry was pulled up to his full height, glaring at a blonde, muscular man with a bruised face and one arm in a sling, "If you want my help-we do it my way!"

They were in the labs, Hermione and Shin's domain. There were a wide array of curious smells as half a dozen experimental potions were held in stasis. Glass screens, scribbled notes and a series of benches filled with unfinished weaponry and non-magical technology. It was an exciting space and Merlin's mind was already picking up a hundred fun things he could do to pass the time.

"No-he is my responsibility! I need to go out there!"

"You are injured in case you hadn't noticed!" Harry shouted, magic flaring enticingly with his temper.

"Then fucking heal me!"

"And deal with you being emotionally compromised and getting in the fucking way!" Harry shouted back, "Not a chance James!"

Curious, Merlin joined the group standing on the sidelines watching them shout at one another. Tucking Excalibur under one arm, he leant into Draco who was watching with avid attention, "What's happening?"

"James is looking for assistance." answered someone else down the line. A man with a terrific mound of wild black hair and a pair of thick framed glasses Merlin rather envied, "Harry is giving it to him."

"I see." he reached across and held out his hand, flashing a bright smile, "Myrddin."

"Q." the grip was firm and strong.

"May I ask who James is?"

"James Bond. MI6." Hermione answered distractedly, her dark eyes moving steadily from one to the other.

"The non-magical Harry." Pansy added, "Or Harry is the magical James, depending on how you look at it."

Merlin couldn't help letting his head fall to the side as he appreciated Harry in full raging glory, "Fuck he's sexy when he's angry."

"Which one?" Draco murmured.

On closer inspection, Draco was quite right. James Bond was cold and furious, icy blue eyes narrowed dangerously. He was dressed in a sharp grey suit that clung perfectly to every inch of his body. Perhaps they went to the same tailor. It really was quite the display of alpha superiority. So much snarling and posturing.

"I'm certain that if I had ovaries they'd self impregnate from being in the same room as this much testosterone." Merlin observed mildly.

Hermione snorted and looked at him, noting the sword under his arm, bright light filling her eyes as she asked breathlessly, "Is that Excalibur?"

"Oh this old thing?" he gestured to the sword.

"Em!" Harry's voice was like a lash, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow, "Is that any way to talk to your elders?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. He was flushed. Power pouring off him and unsettling all the delicate pieces of equipment in the room, "You were supposed to drop by after hours."

"I got bored." he shrugged, smiling with a little hint of mischief and sauntering forwards with a deliberate sway of his hips, "I hadn't expected to find you quite so upset."

Harry ran a hand through his messy hair and glared at James, before hissing out one long breath and reaching out to grasp James' bicep, "I'll retrieve him for you James, but you must know why I can't take you with me."

James' nostril's flared, "I know...I just can't stand the idea of waiting here."

"Harry is the best at what he does." Hermione assured in a cool, controlled voice, "We can get him out tonight."

James took a long, slow breath and nodded sharply once, "Q has everything you need." his cold blue eyes snapped round to Harry, "Please tell me you have whiskey and illegal weapons to keep me amused in the meantime."

Harry smiled a little, "Of course James." he spared a glance for those standing around, before nodding, as though he trusted them to know what they needed to do.

Merlin looked sidelong at Hermione, "I can help."

"I don't know who you are." she replied, twisting her bushy hair into a clip, "Harry neglected to introduce us."

"Ah yes." he turned round and shouted at the top of his voice, "Harry!"

"What!?" he shouted back from somewhere down the hall.

"You forgot the introductions!"

A series of chocolate frog cards dropped on them all from the ceiling and Merlin rolled his eyes. Old man, long beard, hat. Why of all the disguises he'd worn, Dragoon was the one they remembered he didn't know.

_You're a wanker, he fired at him telepathically._

_Count your cards Em-because that's the amount of times I plan to have you in retaliation for showing up at the worst possible time_ , Harry fired back, his tone sharp but amused.

Merlin quickly counted them, _Seven? Getting superstitious in your old age Potter?_

 _It's a magical number for a reason_ , he purred back, equal threat and promise, _Now help me sort out this fucking mess without giving away you're a living legend. I'm not in the mood for listening to my closest friends accuse me of keeping secrets again._

_You are keeping secrets._

_It's your secret._

_Have you ever fucked James?_

_I'm going away now_ and he blocked Merlin out just like that. The only bastard he'd ever met that could.

"Dickhead." he muttered under his breath.

"What's with these?" Draco questioned, holding up two cards.

Q was staring at the old man in the image intently, "Why do they move?"

"Hmmm?" Hermione asked, pulling over a keyboard and taking her station beside Shin, "The images?"

"Yes. What's their purpose?"

"Amusement, mainly." Hermione answered, "Wizards have short attention spans. Even the inanimate need to answer to them."

"Sounds arrogant to me." Q said with a shrug, removing a flash drive from his pocket and moving to join Hermione and Shin, "Now, let's get on shall we."

Merlin jumped up on a bench beside Draco, Excalibur on his lap as they listened to Q explain the parameters of the mission. James had been out in Syria with his protégée. An SIS agent on the verge of receiving double-oh status. It was supposed to be a simple hunt and kill. Keeping eyes on a rebel group, killing their leader and getting the fuck out. It went to hell immediately when they were spotted by chance in a rival sight. They'd ran. Got separated. James made the rendezvous. His partner did not.

He was being held deep in a rebel compound, being tortured for information while James stewed here, recovering from his injuries and blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.

"There are traces of magic." Q added, after sharing everything he had gathered about the compound which turned out to be an impressive amount covering everything from architectural weaknesses of the building, to their guard pattern, "I believe they have a wizard among their ranks."

"There's an International Statute." Draco stated, sipping from a recently conjured mug of tea, "Magic and muggles aren't supposed to mix."

"It's civil war." Q said curtly, "Must you use the word muggle? It's derogatory."

"Is it?" Draco's voice was chilly, "I wasn't aware."

"Draco." Hermione said warningly.

Rolling his eyes, Draco muttered, "Sorry. I wasn't aware it was offensive. We don't have any words for people without magic apart from muggle."

"I understand you're part of this team for a reason." Q's voice was so cool and sharp Merlin was amazed he wasn't busy shaping diamonds with it, "Invent some."

The corner of Draco's mouth twitched, "I don't think it's the sort of task I should be trusted with."

Merlin leant forward, "How did you spot the magic user?"

"Magic emits a unique energy field." Q answered, turning to look at him a little, "It's led me to believe that this particular base is what you would call 'warded'. It's the only rational reason why their most valuable prisoners and personnel are held impenetrably in a place with such an inconsistent guard pattern."

Merlin hopped off the bench, "Show me the data you've gathered on the field."

Peering at him a little more closely than anyone else thus far, Q shared the data. It was all wavelengths and suggestion. A low intermittent hum captured beneath filming by informants based in rebel territory.

"It's easily confused with background radiation." Q explained.

"Every magic user has a field like this." Merlin murmured.

"That is the logical assumption."

Merlin pointed to the key board, "May I?"

Q moved aside, but he watched closely as Merlin intuitively started to manipulate the data in front of him. Harry often complained at the lack of solid data on the magical ability of his enemies, and his surroundings in general. MI6 had Q, who could calculate the impossibility of a mission through analysis of various different factors like the type of security system they used and the death toll of the mark they were pursuing. Harry had old spells that could tell him how many people there were in the building-but it was impossible to cast without revealing that you were there, and it delivered no other useful information beyond that.

Shin had developed a stealth version that cased the building, sending information back about the placement of guards, the location of the target and other important situational information to Harry's handler back in England. However, it only lasted as long as Harry could concentrate on casting it and was too complex to bring back online when under fire.

Merlin was certain that by understanding this energy field a little better, he would be able to replicate and enhance his own ability to get a read on the magic users nearby. The one thing Harry hated more than losing his target through insufficient application of magic, it was showing his hand. The programme Merlin was working on should give him a decent analysis of how powerful the nearest magic user was, and by extension the wards on the building he would be breaking into. Allowing for more realistic time scales and clearer mapping for his handlers. He was also sure he could transfer Shin's spell to something he could wear, a magical, three dimensional GPS.

He was looking forward to earning every inch of Harry's 'retaliation'.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of the first act. 
> 
> Sorry if it seems like I've taken too long to get your couple up here, but there's no more intro's needed. The story's settled. There will be more sex, violence, angst and badass heroism to come.
> 
> Just give me a week to finish the next chapter!
> 
> All comments and kudos hugely appreciated.

James knocked back a glass of whiskey, refilled it, and dropped gratefully onto the couch in Harry's office. He was exhausted. Apart from the tranquilisers they'd forced on him on the plane back from Syria, he hadn't slept once. Couldn't. Not when Ryan was still out there alone.

"Why did you come straight to me?" Harry asked, sitting down opposite with a short of bourbon, "I thought your boy had family high up in government."

"He does...but they'll take too long." whiskey burned the cuts on the inside of his mouth and James took a moment to savour the pain as much as the taste, "There's magic involved. They'll have to contact the ministry and requisition an Auror and I hate working with those idiots. I'm doing everyone a favour by coming direct to you."

Harry hummed thoughtfully, "And you dragged Q along for the ride?"

"Q is the best." James replied, unable to keep a hint of pride out of his voice, "You should be honoured to collaborate with him."

Harry's red lips slipped into a smirk, "You know I'm always happy to collaborate with Q."

James' eyes narrowed and he threw the nearest thing he could grab at Harry's head-which turned out to be a brutal looking letter opener-only for him to duck with a laugh.

James glared, "You're a complete and utter bastard. You have plenty of other geniuses running around after you-stick to them. Keep your bloody fingerprints off mine."

"I wouldn't dare James." Harry's voice had softened a little, "I'm very happy with my bollocks where they are."

They eyed one another a little before James allowed himself a small smile. The first time he'd met Harry it had been in a complete steaming dump of an Iraqi prison and they were both in a wretched state. It was hot, dry and they were both being held under espionage charges. James suspected M wasn't coming for him. Instead he was just going to be tortured until they gave up and put a bullet in his head, his body left to rot in some mass grave in the desert.

His memories up until Harry's arrival were hazy. Starvation and dehydration had settled in some time before. Without any mental barriers to hold back the nightmares, his PTSD had run rampant. Hallucinations of all the people he killed, the one's he'd left to die crawling in from the dank corners of his cell. Bloody, hissing at him for his failures. Shakes, phenomenal, futile anger. The first thing he'd done once the door had been locked was jump on Harry. Hold him to the floor and press his hands against his trachea, determined to destroy another threat.

Rather than let him, Harry had twisted, flipped them, so he could press his arm against James' sternum. Hissing in English that he needed to calm the fuck down. Blinking, James' eyes came into focus at the glitter of green eyes unlike any he'd ever seen before, drawn to the unusual scar on his forehead. Lightning bolt. Lightening struck. The body pressed against his shaking a little as well but still strong. There was blood dripping from his lips.

Retreating into silence, Harry let him go and shuffled to the opposite wall and they watched one another suspiciously. Having another person around dragged James out of his head. For three days neither of them spoke. One was taken to be tortured, then the other, and they would look after their wounds alone. It was only when he saw the state of Harry's torso-a mass of black and blue bruises-did it finally click that he actually had an ally here.

"I've never seen you before." his voice was raw and broken from screaming.

"What?" there was a flash of green as Harry dabbed water on the burns on his arms with the shirt he'd been wearing on arrival.

"You're English. They wouldn't put me with someone else that either wasn't a spy or high up in military intelligence."

"And your conclusion?" Harry asked in a disinterested voice, hissing as he cleaned out another wound.

"That either you work for another international agency and have retained all of your English nuances or you're something else altogether."

"Private contractor." Harry answered, slipping his shirt back on, ignoring the ripple of disgust that shifted over James' face, "I was tracking a mark and didn't run when I should have."

James still wasn't satisfied, "I know most of the contractors operating out of England. I still don't recognise you."

"I'd be surprised if you did." Harry's voice was wry, "My name is Harry Potter."

"I'm James Bond." he stretched out his legs, hissing as his muscles pulled, "Real name. Not that it matters."

"Of course it matters. Don't tell me you've given up." Harry's voice was disapproving.

James glared, "I've been here for almost two months. I haven't eaten anything more than a bowl of gruel and a sip of salt water once every two or three days. Even if I could break out-which I can-I don't have anywhere to go after that. We're in the middle of the desert."

"Well I'm breaking out." Harry shrugged, "I'd be happy to take you with me."

James scanned him, before breaking out into an unexpected smirk, "Your mark's in the prison, isn't he?"

"Yes." Harry's dangerous smile matched James', "Once I've slit his throat I'm getting the fuck out of here."

Although keen to agree, James was still an agent of Her Majesty's government and he needed to be sure that their interests were running alongside one another on this. If they didn't James might have to act, even if doing so rid him of his last hope of escape.

"Who are you here for?" he asked slowly.

"Abaid Bashar."

James frowned, "He's a businessman. Cousin of my target, who I managed to get before being captured."

"He's an arms dealer and bankroller of a number of insurgents here and around the world."

"And he's coming to the prison?"

"He likes to kill his enemies himself."Potter's smile was sharp and full of teeth, "Look into their eyes after they're broken and snap their neck. It's only a matter of time."

James considered it, "Room full of guards. You're not exactly in shape. And there's the matter of transport."

"I know. I have a plan."

It was a plan as bold and ridiculous as any of James' had ever been. Harry was dragged out at dawn. Alarms went off ten minutes later and all hell broke loose. Bashar was dead, as were the guards that had been holding Harry down. In record time he'd collected weapons, unleashed the rest of the prisoners and had James at his shoulder for backup as they headed to the carpark. Harry was at least ten years James' junior but he fought his way out as though he'd been dealing with impossible odds his entire life, never once faltering, trusting that the moment James had a gun in his hand he'd come back to life.

It was hot, and loud and dirty. The sunlight was blaring after so much time in the dark. Ducking rifle fire, they dived below a wall and scanned their exit route. Prisoners were everywhere, destroying whatever loose formation the guards had tried to maintain. Without saying anything, Harry pointed, gestured, and James nodded. Then they just ran for it. Diving over barriers and shooting anyone that got in the way until they could break into a Jeep. Taking the wheel and growling in frustration when he couldn't get the engine to snap to life. The keys Harry had stolen weren't enough to get the thing moving,

"It's not doing anything!" he hissed, ducking as the bullet proof glass shattered in the back of the Jeep.

Harry glanced at him, rested his hand on the dash as he shot down another guard. The engine roared to life. Determined to ask what the fuck that meant later James accelerated and they sped out the prison. The wall James was planning to smash through with the Jeep exploding before they neared despite their lack of firepower.

Clambering to the back of the van, Harry fought off their pursuers while James's headed vaguely in the direction of civilization on the single dusty road linked to the prison. He had one rifle that he was firing intermittently, but it seemed to be taking out enough wheels and drivers to leave them all stranded. After twenty minutes they were on the home straight.

"We should head to Saudi Arabia, lay low, and head back to England by train. Less likely to be detected that way." James suggested and Harry agreed with a short nod.

James learned about Harry's magic at the border. They dumped the Jeep and headed on foot to the checkpoint. The borders were protected by a combination of electric fences and mines. Their safest option was to persuade the guards to let them through. Or, actually, wait until it was dark and knock them out. Which would have worked if they hadn't started firing on approach. There was nowhere to hide and James remembered that moment when he just gave in. Irritated and exhausted that they'd made it this far only for it all to go to hell. Again.

Instead none of the bullets landed. Harry's eyes were narrowed. Without pausing in his step, Harry brushed his hand aside and the guards collapsed onto the floor. The small shield around them dropped and James looked at him sidelong. No one worked for the security services as long as James did without picking up on rumours of this sort of thing. Though there were just rumours. He never truly believed that magic really existed.

"You're one of them." James asserted.

Harry disarmed the guards, snapped his fingers and tied them up, then swung a rifle over his shoulder, "I am."

"Then why are we still here? Can't you click your fingers and send us back to England."

"It's not that simple." Harry handed him a rifle and after raiding the small hut for food and water, they took their vehicle and headed towards the nearest city. Food, rest, and then they could keep moving.

Years later and James was still getting his head around the complexities of Harry's world. Like his, but with magic. An unstable and unpredictable component that James didn't entirely understand. Nevertheless he trusted Harry. Following that mission they stayed in touch. He became one of the very few people James trusted enough to call friend.

"He's such a cocky little bastard." James muttered, putting the empty glass down so he could rub his eyes with one hand, "But he doesn't deserve this."

"I'm getting him out James." Harry assured, standing up and leaning over to tap James on the shoulder, "Now get some bloody sleep."

James felt weight settle into his limbs, mind softly falling into darkness and only had time to think 'Bastard' before he slouched sidelong into the couch.

\--

Leaving Harry's techs to finalise certain aspects of the mission, Q drifted off to find James. Magic was both exciting and extremely irritating, and after awhile he found following discussions of magical theory exhausting. He also wanted a decent cup of earl grey and he knew Harry kept a stash in his office.

Knocking against the open door with his knuckle, he slipped into the room. Harry was bent over his desk, fingers lost in the wild waves of his hair as he made notes on something. Glancing up, he smiled a little, "You gave in?"

"Your people are brilliant and exhausting." Q said, moving towards James who was fast asleep on the couch and running his fingers through James' short blonde hair, "You put him to sleep?"

"It was about time."

Q nodded and looked up, "Thank you."

Harry stood up and put the kettle on, "When was the last time you slept?"

Q had been guiding James and Ryan through their mission. Arranging their extraction. Then gathering as much intelligence about the group that had captured Ryan possible while James was returned home. That was at least thirty six hours and he wasn't certain how much sleep he'd had before that. It had been a busy week. Missions back to back.

"Now that you mention it I'm not sure. Three days?"

Harry rolled his eyes and put the cup down, "I'm not giving you caffeine. You're getting some sleep. Now."

"You aren't my superior." Q retorted but it was weak at most. Now that he thought about it crashing out on a nice comfortable bed for a few hours seemed exquisite.

Harry pointed his wand at couch where James was sleeping and it transformed from a sofa into a cosy looking queen sized bed with a mound of pillows and a soft fur blanket. He ran his fingertips along the black pelt and raised an eyebrow at Harry, "Fur?"

"Yes..." he peered at James, "My magic clearly likes you both. When I do this for myself the best I can manage is a summer duvet no matter what season it is."

Q removed his shoes and cardigan, "That doesn't make sense to me."

"I'm surprised anything does." Harry drawled, finishing a cup of tea for himself and returning to his desk, "Sleep. I'll wake you up in a few hours."

Nodding, Q settled in. At once James reached out and dragged him close so they could curl up together. Taking a deep breath, he sighed, once, before drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.

\--

By the time Merlin had broken out of his programming trance it was evening. Hermione and Shin were talking in security shorthand while Draco was nowhere to be found. Stepping back and stretching, he decided to go for a walk. And find Harry. His magic was stirring and he wanted a few moments alone before they shipped him off into danger.

Walking through the quiet hallways, Merlin tried his hardest not to dwell on what was going to happen in a few hours. Being afraid wouldn't help. A part of him wanted to beg Harry to take him along. Sitting back and watching while people he cared about put themselves at risk wasn't in his nature. He belonged at Arthur's side and Harry was so similar to him in the ways that counted it provoked long dormant instincts to protect, sacrifice and keep safe.

Drawn towards the training room, Merlin paused in the doorway and observed Harry sitting cross legged in the duelling circle. He was meditating. Magic settling into a great, gentle stillness that made Merlin feel boneless and relaxed. Crossing the circle, he dropped down onto the floor opposite and simply watched, waited, for Harry to come back to himself.

"You're upset." Harry said softly, eyes closed as his magic reached out to settle around Merlin like a great soothing blanket.

"I don't like your job." he declared.

"I know." his lips curled into a small smile.

"Someone might kill you."

"Yes."

"And you don't care about that."

Harry peeled his eyelids back. Without his glasses on there was nowhere to hide from such emerald brilliance.

"I care...just not enough. There are things more important than my life."

Merlin twisted his lips up in irritation, "Why do you have to be such a bloody hero all the time?"

"I was never a hero Em. That's just a story people made up to make them feel better about the fact a child was fighting their battles for them."

"You were the only one that could have defeated Voldemort. It was a curse of your birth."

"Voldemort was one evil facilitated by many more." Harry returned, adding in a soft, tired voice, "It was so much easier then."

"Our youth frequently is." Merlin said, sad and wistful for the world he had been born into that no longer existed.

Harry hummed in agreement and stood up, uncrossing his legs and rising to his feet in one long graceful move Merlin found both deeply attractive and extremely irritating. Holding out his hand, Harry pulled him up from the floor and they both took a moment to settle into each other's space. Merlin nestled his head in the crook of Harry's neck and breathed him in. Sometimes when he closed his eyes it was like being held by Arthur all over again. Harry exuded the same strength and steady confidence, the little indulgent huffs of breath against his ear.

"Please don't die." Merlin murmured, "I'm not ready to bury you yet."

"I'm not ready to be buried." Harry said softly, pressing his lips to the side of Merlin's head, "Come along, I need to wake up Bond and Q."

MI6's finest were out for the count. Q's head was resting on James' chest and their hands had clasped together. Merlin looked sidelong at Harry, "I wasn't aware they were together."

"They aren't." Harry flicked the kettle on, "Not officially anyway."

"I should sit Q down with Draco." Merlin said thoughtfully, leaning against Harry's desk.

"For what reason?"

"So Draco's knows what to expect when you get together."

Harry snorted, "Why do you keep insisting on Draco? You've only just met."

"You're honest with him." Merlin said thoughtfully, accepting a cup with a small nod of thanks, "You don't patronise him with your affection the way you do with Shin, or your friends. You talk to him like an equal."

"The way I do you, you mean?" Harry carried over two mugs to the bed, wafting the steam of tea and hot coffee over his two guests.

"Precisely. Do you think we should stop sleeping together?"

"Why?"

Merlin shrugged, "It just seems like something we should do. You'll never settle down with anyone if you spend all of your free time shagging me."

"I still sleep with other people, so do you."

James and Q started to stir. Harry left the mugs floating above them and joined Merlin leaning against the front of his desk.

"I don't actually." Merlin admitted, "I mean, I used to, but I don't anymore. I don't need to."

Harry turned, so his hip was resting against the desk, arms crossed, "I wasn't aware of that."

"It doesn't change anything."

Harry frowned, "You'd tell me, wouldn't you? If what we're doing goes too far."

"Of course!" Merlin exclaimed, reaching out to shift some of Harry's messy hair out of his eyes, "I don't feel used or left behind. Nothing like that."

"Good." Harry caught Merlin's hand between both of his and pulled him close, "I'd hate for my selfishness to end up hurting you."

"I'm tougher than I look Potter." Merlin said, smirking, pressing their lips together in a firm, chaste kiss, "I can take anything you can throw at me, and more."

"I know." Harry's voice was soft and surprisingly earnest, "You've had a shit time Em. I don't want to make it worse."

Merlin sighed, "I'm not your responsibility."

"Everyone is my responsibility." Harry disagreed, deciding he'd had quite enough flirtation by fastening their lips together in a deep kiss that Merlin had been so eagerly waiting for since he finished coding. He found himself lifted onto the desk, legs wrapped tight around Harry's waist as their magic danced and swayed around them.

James eyed the display curiously while sipping on his coffee, Q leaning on his chest greedily sucking back a cup of tea. The lights in the room were flickering and a golden glow was gathering around them both. It seemed to shine harder the more he paid attention, as though showing off now that there was an audience.

Q was watching it just as keenly, "I thought the only way magic users could channel their abilities was through a wand."

Harry pulled off with a hum, "We're not all the same."

"No...you're just something else." James surmised.

"Possibly." Harry turned round, Merlin draping his arms loosely over his shoulders as he smiled warmly at them both, "How do you feel?"

"Like I could use a shower." James muttered, "But better, thank you for taking advantage of my trust."

Harry smiled, it was a slow, sensuous thing that James returned, his bad arm around Q tightening intentionally, the lance of pain ignored with hardly a flinch, "It was a pleasure James." and he tugged Merlin's hand, forcing him to hop off the desk, "I want you to show me what you've been working on all day."

"I've been brilliant, that's what." Merlin answered with a grin, "I fully expect you to fall at my feet in wonder and worship me as your new god."

Harry laughed, his hand dropping from Merlin's wrist as they reached the hallway, "No reason to sell yourself short."

Q sat up and shuffled over, clearly intending to follow. James caught his wrist, "What's the hurry?"

"Magical invention James." Q answered as though it should be perfectly obvious, "Magical. Invention."

"We're alone, in a bed." James pointed out, his slow tone matching Q's, "We should take advantage."

Q raised a prim eyebrow, before reaching over to place his mug on the floor. With one twist too graceful to be entirely natural, he landed on James' lap.

"That's a little more like it." James growled approvingly, running his one good arm down Q's slender back before fitting one battered hand on the jut of Q's sharp hip.

Q's rested his arms lightly on James' shoulders, lips moving slowly down the side of James' face as he said softly, "The mission isn't over James."

"I know." twisting his face, James caught Q's lips, body warm with low thrumming desire, low only because it had to be, restrained until the job was done, "I should be out there."

"No." Q sighed, leaning back, thighs shifting as he moved, "I think Harry is the only person suited to the task. There's too much magic. The enemy too unpredictable."

"Q-"

"I am your Quatermaster 007." Q cut off, reaching out to collect his glasses from beneath the pillow, "It is my judgement that it would be best for both your health and Ryan's retrieval that you stay behind."

James hissed between his teeth in irritation, "That isn't acceptable."

"What you consider acceptable is irrelevant." Q slipped his shoes back on and stood up, "Ryan is what matters. Now come along James. I want to know what Myrddin's been working on. If it's anything like I hope then there is another genius I need to lure to Q Branch and pick apart."

James sighed and followed, his sore body resisting every inch of movement, "I suspect you may have to go through Harry first."

Q made a thoughtful noise, "He is a tad possessive."

Recalling a particularly nasty fight they'd had when James had rather unwisely taken Shin to bed a few years before, 'tad' scarcely seemed like a fitting description. Harry might have a wealth of magical power at his disposal but when it came down to personal matters he always preferred the physical. Every single piece of glass in James' flat was shattered during a fight as brutal and bloody as any he'd ever experienced on the job. Harry's fury was unhinged and almost impossible to head off once released. It ended only because neither had the strength to move anymore. Collapsed on their backs in the middle of his living room, broken and gasping for breath.

It had certainly made him think twice about Harry's mild manners, and how to treat the people that fell under his protection.

The labs were quiet. Shin and Hermione were buried in computer screens. Pansy and Ron were talking together on the sidelines, while the tall, elegant blonde James hadn't been formally introduced to watched Myrddin and Harry. He was well dressed, a touch aristocratic, with that extra archaic wizard flair they seemed so terrible at repressing.

Q strode forward and immediately took command of the situation. It was the sort of thing he was used to and Harry's stepping aside was signal enough that he was willing to allow it.

"Hermione? Shin?"

"We've determined Ryan's location." Shin answered, fingers continuing to tap on the keyboard.

"The best chance of retrieval will be when he's transported from his cell to the interrogation suite." Hermione continued.

"Suite?" Draco asked, looking a little disdainful, "I thought you only found those at five star hotels."

"You mean you haven't sampled all the benefits of a third world warzone?" Harry asked, a playful twinkle in his eyes, "James and I could recommend a few if you're interested in doing something different this year."

"Hmm." James agreed, "There was delightful hole in the Congo."

"Ah yes-with the Witch Doctor."

"I don't think I've even encountered such a thorough collection of machetes in my life."

"Nor witnessed so many inventive uses."

Draco scanned them both before settling on Harry, "What was the death toll by the time you escaped?"

"Fifty six percent confirmed dead. Twenty one percent seriously injured. Ten percent permanently maimed. Thirteen percent unconscious and unscathed." Q replied crisply.

James raised an eyebrow.

"Don't pull faces 007. If you don't want to be suspended, don't blow up every enemy compound that crosses your path."

"Same goes for you Harry." Hermione said, her tone similarly cool, "Sorting out that one had been a complete nightmare."

"Anything involving the ministry usually is." Harry said, a little bitterly and exchanged a glance with James who communicated silently that he understood his position entirely.

"Anything involving you two usually is." Shin retorted, "Harry your portkey is ready. It will deliver you outside the wards as soon as you're ready to go."

James slipped a hand in his pocket and slunk forward to watch Harry undergo the same ritual he did every mission but with a few interesting magical extras. The plan was straightforward enough. Sort of. Through the magical terminology he managed to work out that Harry would infiltrate the wards first. It would require careful work to slip through without anyone noticing.

"I think they're exceptionally powerful." Myrddin explained.

Harry was looking the base schematics, hands in his pockets, eyes flickering as he memorised as much as he could before relying on Shin to talk him through it, "Based on the data you analysed?"

"Yes." Myrddin handed Harry a tiny strip of silver, "Wrap this around your wand. It'll amplify and transmit any passive situational spells you cast, so we can keep an eye of them from here. It won't stop just because you've become engaged in a firefight."

Harry snapped his head round, eyes wide, smile bright and delighted, "You're sure?"

Myriddn shrugged, but he was blushing a little, clearly pleased, "Completely."

Removing his wand from the holster, Harry slipped on the small ring. He waved it. The black stone surface in the centre of the room sprang to life. A bright white three dimensional image of their office building appeared in scale before them.

Q's eyebrows raised ever so slightly as he stepped forward, "I presume this is what you will be working from?"

Shin manipulated the image with his wand, the view shifting from an outside view to a more conventional floorplan, waving away layers until the room they stood in was on display. James tilted his head to the side when he spotted a small dot standing in his location, pale blue, named Daniel Stirling. The alias currently tucked into his pocket.

"That's curious."

"Marauder's magic." Hermione explained, "It scans and reads any recognisable identification. At the moment it's erratic and easy to deceive." she gestured to the fact that Q's dot was empty and Myrddin's declared him Emrys. Whoever, whatever that was.

"The different colours are new." Shin looked sidelong at Myrddin, "What did you do?"

"The ring also gauges magical strength." Myrddin brushed up against Harry as he pointed at the display and the two single golden dots flared brighter momentarily, "As you can see you're all hovering around the same level, aside from James and Q that are marked as non magic users."

Draco tilted his head to the side, "I always envisioned my magic as silver, instead of red."

"Slytherin until the end." Ron said with a smirk, joining the rest of the group to observe the projection, "This is extremely sophisticated Myrddin. Much clearer than anything we've ever worked with before."

"The ring keeps collecting information." Myrddin said gesturing with his long, not quite graceful hands, his knuckles were large and capable looking, "It will always depend a little on the strength of the caster of both the spell and the ring, but it's the sort of thing that can be normalised and enhanced the usual ways once all the nuances in the prototype have been tested."

"How did you meet Harry again?" Hermione asked, her voice a little sharp as she looked between them both.

"A club." Harry said, waving the display away with his wand and holstering it again, "Shin could you continue please?"

Break through the wards. Wait until Ryan was being transported. Disable the guards. Portkey back to London. Harry asked a few more pointed questions than James ordinarily would, but then he was a boss as well as an agent. James was a servant. He simply did as he was told.

"Okay." Harry checked his watch, "I need to finalise a few things. Be prepared to go in an hour." and he strode out. James glanced at Q who shrugged lightly before turning to Hermione. Although he wasn't running this one, his expertise was valuable and Hermione was too good at her job not to compare notes while she had the chance.

\--

Draco bit his lip and clasped his hands together to keep from crying out. An hour ago Harry had gone in. The wards were intricately woven and held together with the sort of magical force only an organised group could have pulled off. It had taken fifty minutes to break in undetected.

Potter cast the spell and took the news that he was now outnumbered a hundred and twelve to one remarkably well. Hermione and Ron were talking quietly together, their voices low as Shin guided Potter to the best vantage point to wait while simultaneously scanning the names that had been identified for anyone on in the ministry's systems. Not that they expected to find much. The ministry had little concept of data collection.

Myrddin's eyes were dark, fixed avidly on Potter's small golden dot. Arms crossed, gnawing on his lower lip. They were almost certainly together. They had to be. It was the only explanation for why a man none of Potter's closest friend knew had been welcomed without question. Draco wondered how he could stand it. How any of them could stand it. Knowing one of the people they loved was striding directly into danger.

"Hold." Shin's cool voice commanded and Potter's golden dot froze, three guards moving past his position, "Third door on your left. Three NM's. Disable and await further instruction."

Potter arrived in the room designated, his voice coming through clearly almost immediately after, "Room held."

"Why can't Potter just use a disillusionment charm?" Draco asked Pansy, the only nearby magical person. Q and Bond were on his left standing shoulder to shoulder. Two utterly terrifying intelligence professionals he was trying not to admire too openly. Especially Bond. Draco was developing an unexpected taste for dangerous men in his old age.

"Wards have evolved from just keeping people out." Pansy answered, she was on her muggle phone scanning through e-mails, "There are systems developing that intermittently sweep for concealment spells and disable them. It's possible to resist them, but it requires concentration and a particular knack that very few have." she glanced up at Draco, "We learned the hard way that relying on magic for stealth was fraught with unnecessary risk."

"No one expects a wizard to use non magical infiltration methods." Q added, without any apparent bias.

"What about the spell that allows us to see what's happening? Why don't wards prevent that?"

"It's one of our inventions." Pansy answered, heading to a nearby cabinet to remove a bottle of bourbon and some glasses, "Ward Keepers haven't caught up yet."

While they all drank, mostly in silence, Harry remained in one spot while Ryan was in another. The majority of the guards were of low to very low magical ability, pulsing a shade of blue closer to the non magical personnel also marked at the base. Their lack of power was no doubt related to the poor training wizards received in that part of the world. Not that it would matter when all one hundred and twelve started firing magic and bullets on their single agent.

"Two magical's headed your way." Shin informed.

"Copy."

Using a modified version of _Imperious_ Harry turned the magicals around, quite unaware that their minds had been manipulated to ignore him. Something about all this was picking at Draco's nerves. Wizards of that ability could not create wards that severe. It just wasn't possible. Who was funding them? Why had they kept this agent and let 007 go, because they must have. 007 may have been one of Her Majesty's most fearsome but if a magic user wanted him they only needed to cast a basic hex. The power imbalance was unnerving. No wonder Potter employed non magicals. They had every right to know what was really happening out there.

"Ryan is on the move. An entourage of seven. One in front, flanked on both sides by four with another two holding up the back."

"Your boy must take after you James." Potter's dry voice commented.

"You think I would bother with anyone less?" James rumbled back, pouring another glass of bourbon, "I'd get a move on if I were you. Can't guarantee there'll be any of the bottle left."

"Unbelievable James. I invite you into my home and you drink me dry."

"Home's are supposed to be those places with beds Harry." James drawled.

"I understood beds were for fucking 007." Harry's golden dot moved into position next to the door, Ryan's entourage were fifty seven seconds away, "Don't tell me I've been doing it wrong all these years."

"Thirty seconds." Shin's cool voice called out, ceasing all further chatter, "Twenty. Ten. Now."

The rest was a blur. Potter disabled the guards with a fast application of magic and martial arts, "Target retrieved."

Bond breathed out slowly through his teeth and Q's shoulders lost their tight line. Ryan was handed a weapon and a comm link.

"Two minutes Harry." Shin informed.

Potter only grunted in affirmation. They were already on the move, guided by Shin's steady stream of commands when to move, stop, and disable. Tension was starting to pour of Myrddin in waves. He was practically vibrating with nerves, lips moving in a slow, silent prayer. Two minutes became one, became forty five seconds, twenty and by the time the disabled guards had been spotted they made it past the wards.

"Incoming."

The three dimensional image in the centre of the room cut off. Potter appeared in the designated apparation spot. James and Q immediately strode over to collect the agent Potter had retrieved. Ron and Hermione shared a relieved grin and pulled Potter into a small huddle, a group hug, and Myrddin's patience snapped. He tore across the space and launched himself into Potter's arms. It was rather touching, really, the way Potter hauled him closer, one hand in Myrddin's messy jet hair, an arm around his waist as they shared a kiss and a small conversation in that language they shared.

Unable to watch Draco's attention drifted round to the agent they had recovered. Golden hair, striking blue eyes, regal cheekbones and a face drained of all colour. James had a hand on his shoulder, was trying to get his attention and couldn't. Ryan was looking at Myrddin and Potter like he wanted to be sick.

He whispered in a raw voice, "Merlin."

Myrddin's attention jerked away from Harry, face frozen in a smile as his eyes widened in horror, "Arthur."

Fuck.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for you comments and kudos! I hope you like this chapter!

There was a long, interminable period of silence. Merlin couldn't breathe, couldn't think. His magic was on the verge of going haywire, thrilled to be between Harry and Arthur.

And it was Arthur. 

Younger than when he'd died. Dirty and battered from imprisonment. A few scuffs on his temples, golden hair clotted with grit and what looked like blood. Bruises beneath his deep, clear blue eyes. 

"It is you." Arthur stated, unwilling to make it a question. 

Harry squeezed his arm and the promise of safety no matter what happened next grounded him a little, "Yes."

Arthur's eyes snapped to Harry, "Who the fuck are you?"

One jet black eyebrow rose up, "That depends."

"On what?" Arthur's voice was haughty and chilly, tugging away from James to pull up his head, every inch the King Merlin had longed for over the millennia. 

"Your ability to be civil." Harry's hands made that familiar sweep down the length of his back and Merlin couldn't decide if he was disappointed or relieved that he was stepping down. With one final squeeze of Merlin's hand, he withdrew entirely. Taking the rest of the room and its many onlookers with it. 

When he heard Hermione shriek, "You've been having sex with Merlin! The Merlin!" he winced.

Arthur's eyes narrowed suspiciously, "You're with him?"

Merlin's mouth was dry. The shock of seeing his dreams in reality was making him rather stupid.

"With who?" he managed to croak out.

Arthur gestured impatiently to where Harry had been standing, "Him. With all the-" he gestured irritably to his hair, "and the-" and then the rest of his body as though Merlin stood any chance of comprehending. Instead he sagged and wound up leaning against the black alter he'd been forced to endure watching this wretched mission on. With one hand he summoned the bourbon and took one long, bracing gulp, before handing it out to Arthur. 

"Okay. So." 

Arthur snatched the bottle, he was still scowling. Scowling. Gods that more than anything else made it real. That particular crease between straight brows and the twist of lips that Arthur could never admit was actually a very fetching pout. 

"So what?" he demanded.

Merlin pointed at him, "You're you."

"Who?"

"You." 

"Me?" Arthur looked thoroughly exasperated.

"Yes. You're Arthur. King Arthur. Once and Future King. Not this Ryan 007 kept talking about?"

"Yes. I bloody well am." Arthur pointed at Merlin, "You're not dead. And you look exactly the same."

"You look exactly the same!" Merlin cried out indignantly, very afraid that this conversation was spiralling out of control, "I haven't actually got round to dying, what's your bloody excuse?"

"Excuse! I was born like this." he pulled up and smiled superciliously, "I clearly have superior genes." he took another swig from the bottle, only to suddenly spit it back out again, hacking a vile cough. Merlin crossed his arms and waited, tilting his head a little as he watched Arthur's skin shift from golden brown to fuchsia. There was a vein throbbing at his temple. 

"Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

Merlin frowned, and repeated in a slower voice in case the rapid inhalation of fifty percent proof alcohol had burned a few brain cells, "Are-you-okay?"

"What? Yes. You said you 'never got round to dying'."

"Yes."

"Yes? Yes you've never died!"

Merlin rubbed the back of his neck, he didn't think it was that unusual, he'd had plenty of time to get used to it. "Not really, no."

"At all?" Arthur was suddenly in his space, breathing deadly fumes and more than a little pungent after soaking in his own gear for the last few days, "It's been over one thousand five hundred years."

"Has it?" Merlin asked dryly, "I hadn't noticed."

For once it seemed like Arthur was speechless. It was astonishing. All those years of service and despite Merlin's many attempts at keeping the git quiet it was this that actually did it. So when Arthur forgot all about his irritation and pounced, tugging Merlin into a bone crushing hug, he was completely unprepared. 

"Arthur?" it was a very manly squeak. 

"I thought you were gone." Arthur said in a hoarse voice, face buried in Merlin's neck, "That I'd never see you again."

Merlin melted a little in the embrace, slipping his arms around Arthur's waist, "I don't understand...I thought you'd just wake up...I thought I'd know."

Arthur took a deep breath and stepped away a little, his arms loose on Merlin's shoulders, "I was reincarnated..." he frowned, bit his lip and looked away, "I didn't know who I was until I started training for SIS. I mean, there were other things growing up but being in combat situations triggered memories from before and I dreamed about it constantly." his eyes flicked round, "I dreamed about you."

Merlin half smiled, deep blue eyes shimmering as he raised a hand to Arthur's face, tracing the sharp line of his cheekbone, "I never stopped dreaming about you either."

A dark cloud passed over his features and Arthur stepped back. Ran his fingers through his hair, "Who's the man that extracted me from the compound?"

"Harry." 

"Harry? Just Harry?" Arthur demanded.

"Harry Potter."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "You're sleeping with a man named Harry Potter?"

"Sometime yes." Merlin said quietly, reaching out only for Arthur to move further out of the way, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." his expression was grim and stern, snapping his head to the side, "I think I need to go now. Let my family know that I'm alive."

Merlin opened his mouth but before any sound could come out Arthur was gone and he remained where he was, completely stunned. Hitching up on the alter he sipped from his drink and tried to work out what was happening. One thousand five hundred years of waiting. And Arthur storms off because Merlin dares to have a sex life with someone else.

It was going to take a lot more bourbon for him to work out what level of destroyed he was by that small, distressing revelation.

\--

Draco wondered why he was still here. When they'd been dismissed he tried to slink away, certain that he shouldn't be privy to these conversations. Shin, however, had discreetly grasped his elbow and steered him into Harry's office with everyone else. 

"This is a hell of a secret mate." Ron muttered, looking more than a little pissed off.

"Yes, and it wasn't mine." Harry replied, a great impression of tolerance while he poured a glass of scotch, handing the bottle to James who had rather curiously stepped up to his shoulder.

"But. In that room-is Merlin and Arthur." Ron pointed vaguely in the direction of the lab, "The actual Merlin and Arthur. And we have Excalibur. What the fuck does that mean?"

There was a crack of lightening outside and Harry's attention snapped to it briefly and he frowned, answering distractedly, "For all we know it doesn't mean anything whatsoever."

"Once and Future King." Q intoned, arms crossed and frowning deeply, "The legend said he would return when Albion was in need."

"Albion has been in and out of need since the moment he wound up on that bloody island." James grumbled, sipping from his drink, "What makes now any different from the hundreds of wars we've been involved with before?"

"Well that's the question isn't it?"

Draco snapped his head round. Arthur was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, severe dislike for Harry etched into every single line of his face. 

"Would you like us to bow?" James asked, raising an eyebrow as he reassessed his protégée, "Your Majesty?"

"Fuck off 007." Arthur replied succinctly as he strode forward, silent, measured and strong, "Thank you for saving my life."

Harry sipped from his drink and acknowledged the thanks with a small nod of the head, "I'm happy to waive the fee on this occasion."

Arthur's eyes were narrowed, he scanned the room and the people in it before his attention fell back on Harry, "What happened to you all?"

Hermione's eyes widened, Ron stepped back, viewing him suspiciously. Draco simply exchanged a bemused look with Shin. Seriously, he just wanted a glass of wine and to curl up in bed back at Grimmauld Place. All this posturing was exhausting. How did Potter put up with it all the time?

"That's none of your business." Harry replied with a smile, placing his glass aside, "Now if you'll excuse me. I need to check on Em before he blacks out London." and he effectively dismissed Arthur. King Arthur, as thunder boomed overheard, water pelting so hard against the window it sounded like the drum of bullets. 

Arthur watched Harry leave in the window's reflection, glowering. Recognising the power play for what it was. Leaving him alone in a room full of people who were all a bit awkward about what was supposed to happen next. Apart from Q.

"You need to contact Six and let them know you're alive."

"Yes, I know." he sighed, "What am I supposed to tell them about my miraculous escape?"

"The truth."

"The truth?" he gestured to the room, "That I was saved by a secret agency ran by sorcerers."

"Wizards." Draco corrected, before he could stop the words tumbling out. 

Arthur's clear blue eyes zeroed in on him at once, "I'm sorry?"

"We aren't sorcerers. We're wizards. And witches." he gestured to Pansy and Hermione.

"What's the difference?"

Draco shrugged, "Style, mainly."

Shin grinned and quickly turned away. James snorted a laugh, glancing at Q whose lips gave a brief, unexpected twitch. Arthur didn't seem happy, "I didn't catch your name."

Draco flashed a smile and held out his hand, "Draco Malfoy."

"And what are you?" his shake was knuckle breakingly firm.

"Errm...apart from being both staggeringly wealthy and excessively handsome?" he was very, very close to rambling and not entirely sure why, "Also, can I say that when I was growing up I was very much enamoured by your heroic deeds."

Arthur's stoic expression broke and he smiled. It was a warm, radiant thing which reminded him of Harry, somehow, "The reporting was quite inaccurate."

"Well of course. Can't trust the press to get anything right."

"If that's the case, tell us something not written in the legend." Pansy suggested, arms crossed, hip dropped, viewing the lot of them as though they were idiots to just accept a couple of mutterings at the end of a stressful mission.

"If it's not in the legend, how can you prove it?" Arthur returned. 

"Harry will know." Shin answered simply.

"How?" Arthur asked, "Unless you want to include time traveller into his seemingly never ending list of skills."

"Harry and Merlin have known one another for eight years, by my estimation." Shin replied, clearly unmoved by having a living legend glaring at him, "Trust is a commodity hard to come by these days."

Arthur seemed to appreciate the sentiment, at least, because he answered, "Merlin did not orchestrate my birth. We were the same age. He was my manservant and I didn't know about his magic until shortly before I died."

"It was a secret?" Hermione asked, her tone questioning and thoughtful.

"Magic was banned in Camelot, under pain of death." Arthur's voice was calm and without any inflection whatsoever.

"Vicious." Ron commented. 

"Quite." a bitter smile ghosted across his lips, and he checked his watch, looking up at the only two non magical's in the room, "We should go, before my father mobilises the army to look for me."

James finished his drink and agreed, leading the way out of PWG and calling over his shoulder, "Tell Harry I'll be in touch."

As soon as they were gone the room sagged. Draco fell into the couch. Hermione snagged the scotch and took a burning gulp, face twisting up in distaste, "What the fuck is going on!" 

Draco yawned, "I don't know but since the world isn't in any imminent danger I'm going home. To sleep. I think it would be a very good idea if we all did the same." without waiting to see if Shin was following he headed towards the fireplace. Today had been long and confusing and it was about time it ended. 

Hopefully it would all make a lot more sense tomorrow.

\--

Merlin woke up the next day with a pounding head, in surroundings he didn't recognise. A modern, traditional looking room. A huge king size bed with charcoal sheets, intensely soft against his skin. Someone had stripped him and he stretched, sighed, then winced. Groaning as it all came back in one great rush.

Arthur was alive, in London, and angry at him.

So he drank, may have possibly provoked a storm, and Harry had collected him. He was lying on the altar, clutching the bottle, sunk so deep in misery Harry had simply taken one look at him and gathered him close. Merlin didn't have the strength to push him away, so instead he curled in closer as Harry picked him up and literally carried him out of the office. The stress of the day taking over. Slipping into darkness because he was unable to do anything else. 

There was a slight shuffle and Merlin rolled over. Harry was sleeping on his side and Merlin couldn't resist getting closer. Tracing the firm lines of his back with his fingertips. There were scars here as well. On his lower back there was a tight patch of puckered skin, matched by another at the front from where a bullet had gone clean through during a mission in China. There was a deep line on the back of his shoulder. A curse scar, from a Death Eater back when it all started in Argentina.

Biting his lip, Merlin let his hand trail down to Harry's firm, muscular arse. Half tempted to slick up a finger and open him up. It had been a long time since he topped...but he didn't want that now. Didn't need it. So he drew his hand away and pressed his lips to the nape of Harry's neck. 

"Don't tease if you aren't intending to follow through." Harry said in a gruff, sleepy voice.

Merlin smiled against Harry's skin, "I would. But-" he couldn't finish the sentence, decided he didn't need to. 

Harry rolled around to face him, looking a little concerned, "How are you feeling?" 

"Like shit." he muttered, "I forgot how much of a possessive arse he was."

Harry slipped a hand beneath Merlin's hair and pulled him in for a kiss, "He'll come round. It's just new to him."

"He just left Harry!" he cried, "I mean, even when we were together back in Camelot we weren't exactly monogamous. He was married for fucks sake! And the King! He couldn't always be there when I needed him."

Harry's thumb was gently smoothing out his cheek, green eyes bright and intense, "What do you want to do?"

Merlin didn't bother with words. Couldn't explain how much he needed Harry to claim him now, after such a stinging, unnecessary rejection. Thankfully Harry was always quick on the uptake. Especially when it came to pleasure. 

The lovely soft sheets were kicked aside as Harry's magic wound around them. It rushed across Merlin's body, caressing his nipples, wrapping around his cock, opening him up while Harry kissed the life out of him. Merlin shifted, desperate for something to rub against as Harry pressed down, hands held up out of the way, their fingers clasped tightly together. Every time he tried to break away, get a second to breathe Harry would bear down harder until all Merlin could do was beg, and writhe, desperate for something more substantial than this infuriating teasing.

"Harry-fuck-please."

"Please what?" Harry asked, grinding his hard cock up against Merlin's and sending a shock of pleasure through his system.

"Fuck me." he was gasping for breath, unable to see anything through the haze of gold that had gathered around them, "I need you to break me."

Harry groaned, his teeth sharp on Merlin's collar bone, "Fuck, Em."

"Please." he begged. 

Merlin's legs were hitched up onto Harry's shoulders as he lined up, and pushed in, Merlin's body giving way as it always did. Then Harry started, snapping his hips forward with incredible force. Merlin tried to reach out, to hold on, only for his arms to be pulled tight above his head, kept in place by teasing, invisible bindings. The treatment grew rougher. Harry's magic was a relentless force, sending sparks across his skin as he was held down, forced into supplication. Pain and pleasure merging together the longer Harry manipulated every sensitive spot on his body. 

Straining against the bed, back arched, so close to falling over the edge when Harry's mobile started to ring. Hissing in irritation Harry ignored it, keeping up the same brutal, indomitable pace. With each thrust Merlin felt split further down the middle. His arms were straining against the bindings. Muscles pulled taut, entire body slick with sweat.

Someone started pounding at the door.

"Fuck-off!" Harry shouted, voice breaking off into a low groan.

"It's an emergency!" Shin called urgently through the door.

"Don'tyoudarestop." Merlin rushed out.

"Wouldn't-ah-dare! Oh fuck!"

Merlin's voice joined Harry's as orgasm seared through every muscle. The pain snapped into hot, blinding bliss that went on for so long Merlin was worried he'd never make back it back to himself. Except for the insistent banging on the door.

"Potter!" Draco's cold voice took over from Shin, "Now that you've quite finished ravishing our most revered magical ancestor, it really is quite urgent!"

Harry huffed a small laugh against Merlin's neck and pulled out. Merlin made a small sound of disappointment but couldn't think clearly enough to do much else. Harry pulled the sheet back up and stepped into a pair of jeans, pulling the door open with an irritated sigh.

"What's happened now?"

"Six have taken Hermione, Ron and Pansy into custody." Shin handed Harry a sheet of paper and rather than comment Harry read it. Merlin reluctantly sat up. It was a little harder than he thought it would be. He was aware he'd asked Harry to break him, but it was an instruction he didn't have to take quite so literally. 

"What's the problem?" Merlin asked, his voice hoarse.

"They've been pulled in on conducting illegal operations and interfering with British interests." Harry said distractedly, "They'd arrest me as well but only my friends know where Grimmauld Place is."

"You're calm." Draco stated, his grey eyes flicking speculatively over Harry's body, "Why does that worry me?"

Harry looked up and smirked. Merlin could feel the prickly, energetic rustle of his magic, but it was Shin he addressed, "You know what to do."

"Of course." Shin turned to Merlin, "Would you like to join us?"

"Me?" Merlin was a bit bemused.

"Yes. Your work yesterday was impressive." he smiled, pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement, "I think your...experience with magic would be helpful."

Merlin looked at Harry, who shrugged, "I can pay you or something if you want."

"You're serious?" he couldn't decide if he should be insulted or not.

"No?" Harry asked, clearly uncertain of Merlin's tone, "Look, it doesn't matter. I need to take a shower and sort this out. If you want to go and help out at the lab, that would be great. If you want to sit here and brood that's up to you as well."

"I don't brood." Merlin pouted.

"Yes you bloody well do." he glanced at Draco and Shin and drawled, "Thank you for dragging me out of bed."

Shin nodded and walked away. Draco glared, most likely for the sake of it, and followed his example. Merlin sank back against the pillows, "I know I asked you to break me, but I didn't want you to actually break me."

"Then don't beg for it." Harry shrugged, throwing him a very endearing cheeky smile before tearing off his jeans and heading into the ensuite. Draco was right. Harry's good temper was extremely suspicious. Determined to investigate, he reluctantly rolled out of bed. Semen dribbled down his inner thigh and he caught it with his fingertips. Absently tasting it as he let himself in the shower stall. 

Harry turned round and smiled a little, green eyes gleaming. He wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist and drew him in as hot water sprayed down on them, "Why are you so pleased?"

"Because they're so predictable." he pressed his lips against Merlin's neck.

Merlin hummed in agreement, "I think I should remain in complete and utter ignorance of whatever it is you're conniving." 

"I quite agree." Harry murmured, fingers slipping down the crack in his arse, "Time for a quickie?"

"You do recall that I'm broken?"

"Yes." Harry deftly spun him round so he was resting against the warm tiles, "I propose something slightly less strenuous." 

After over one thousand, five hundred years of life if there's one thing Merlin couldn't argue with it was a rim job. Another benefit of having regular sex with a spy. They picked up on important subtleties like that. 

\--

Arthur shifted uneasily in his seat. The room was silent aside from the silent tapping Q continued to make on his tablet. He, at least, seemed unperturbed by the situation. Which was remarkable really considering how implicated he was in the whole mess.

He was seated between his father and Moneypenny. Q was on her right, James slouched next to him near the end of the table. Huffing an occasional sigh of boredom. Across from them were three of PWG's executives. Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger and Pansy Parkinson, with their legal representation Luna Lovegood. She was reading through incident reports and making notes. At the head of the table sat an increasingly annoyed M, exchanging terse looks with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic. An absurd title that Arthur was certain no one could carry off with dignity.

"M, you said that you had him." father said quietly, jaw ticking with anger as he glared across the table at the three thoroughly indifferent sorcerers.

"We were misinformed." M replied lightly, glaring at James who raised an eyebrow and shrugged.

"I'm non-magical, if you recall, it's one of his defences."

Weasley checked his watch and shifted, nostrils flaring. Looking sidelong at Hermione whose expression remained entirely neutral, though her lips tightened imperceptibly. It was interesting. They must have worked with each other for a long time if they were capable of communicating in such efficient short hand.

Arthur was on the verge of standing up and muttering about what a complete waste of time it all was when the conference room door opened. Potter strode in, carrying a tray of coffees and an amicable expression, "Apologies. I was detained."

"Not here it seems." father muttered in a chilly voice.

Potter's response was to grace him with a blinding smile and hold out his hand, "I'm sorry, we haven't met before. I'm Harry Potter."

"William Cavendish." father had no choice but to take it, his hand closing in a tight grip that caused men of every rank to flinch. It had taken Arthur years to mimic it. Potter's green eyes twinkled and he withdrew as though he hadn't felt anything, dutifully handing out coffee to his friends. 

"Thank you." Pansy sipped gratefully from hers, pleasure fluttering across her eyelashes, "Merlin I needed that."

Arthur's fingers tightened on the arms of his chair and he attempted to discreetly look around, expecting him to materialise any second. Potter pulled out a seat at the far end of the table and grinned, seemingly taking mercy on his confusion, "One of our expletives. We tend to use it in case of 'Christ' or 'God'."

"Does that mean you've called it out during sex?" James asked, leaning forward, a dark glitter in his eye that Arthur didn't like. 

Potter's smile was warm and playful, "Only when I can't help it."

Attempting to keep his temper under control, he looked sidelong at M who was shuffling paper, before looking up and addressing Potter with a determined glint in his eye, "Last night you retrieved one of our agents from an enemy prison without authorisation."

"PWG is a private contractor." Luna's voice was soft but clear as she looked up from her case files, straightening up and gazing at M firmly, "Requests for authorisation are always dependent on the nature of the mission, gauging security risk, the danger presented by the target and relative urgency. We acted last night on the understanding that leaving your agent in a prison ran by dangerous wizards who are more than capable of drawing out state secrets without resorting to torture would have been considered a high priority." she pulled over the coffee Potter had bought for her, "We acted within those parameters."

"Paperwork for a case like this containing all details and authorisation after the fact is already filled out on my desk." Ron explained, drumming his fingers loosely on the table, "Which you would have known if you had allowed me in the building to send them through the usual channels for delivery both here and at the ministry."

Luna nodded in agreement, "Yes. Quite."

"Why was my son in a prison ran solely by wizards in the first place?" father hissed, levelling cold eyes on the sorcerers across the table, lingering particularly on Potter. It was the natural thing to do. The eye was just drawn that way. 

"I don't know." his expression was bland, "The extent of our involvement was the retrieval of your agent. Anything pertaining to the circumstances is outside our purview."

Arthur fought the urge to run his fingers through his hair. This was all so pointless. The government and the ministry were just grasping at straws and they knew it. PWG operated above board, like any other security agency in the world. He just wanted them to get to the point. 

"That is the case, sir." Q put his tablet aside and sat up straighter, giving the room his full attention, "We were there. PWG's intelligence was our own and the retrieval of Agent Ryan was an collaborative, though unofficial, effort between two distinct security forces."

"There are channels." Minister Shacklebolt stated, gazing imperiously at the sorcerer's as though they were wayward children and he was reaching the end of his patience, "Regulations in place to protect both our interests that you have flouted once again." 

"The accusation was our operation was illegal." Luna cut through and returned them to the topic at hand, "And it interfered with British interests. There is already precedent that proves our involvement was fitting to the situation and I'm not entirely sure how bringing in one of your assets interferes with national interest."

M's expression was cool as he regarded her. Ronald looked sidelong at Harry who inclined his head only the slightest, that damned twinkle in his emerald eyes as he sipped from his coffee. 

"The way I see it." Weasley sat up, he wasn't dressed as smartly as Potter but then few, unlike James, rarely were, "You can't hold us on illegality. You know we operate legitimately."

One of Shacklebolt's aides snorted. Weasley ignored them.

"That leaves interference...which is only true if your agent was supposed to remain within the prison." his rich blue eyes drifted across the table, "And if that's the case, it has even less to do with us than the initial charge."

Admittedly, that ought to have occurred to him sooner. This meeting shouldn't have even happened. His father had been outraged at magical involvement, certain deception was involved. Of course deception was involved. He was an intelligence operative...though quite what they hoped to gain by dropping him in that hellhole he didn't know. Some other target perhaps that he couldn't be trusted with killing. He looked sidelong at James, who glanced back. This wasn't something on his radar either. 

"What would Six have to gain by infiltrating international wizards?" Shacklebolt asks in a quiet voice.

"That depends." M's eyes narrowed, "Why are international wizards attacking civilian's?"

Arthur darted a look at Potter who seemed completely benign. It was unnerving. The man that had led him out of that wretched prison was an intimidating operative. Skilled and exceptionally dangerous. The same calibre as James Bond who was routinely accepted as one Six's best assets. It was galling to admit that on top of that he was magical. Smiles like that hid secrets. 

"I don't know why you're so bloody happy Harry." James drawled, "You know you're the first suspect in line?"

"And what could I possibly have to gain by pitting Six and the ministry against one another?" he drawled in return.

"Power." Moneypenny observed, she looked relaxed, but Arthur assumed that was because she had a weapon at hand, "Influence."

"We do not murder innocents." Hermione stated in a clear voice, eyes blazing, "Our business is our own."

"Your business places you in unstable situations around the world on a regular basis." M returned tersely, "I want access to your client list and most recent missions."

"No." Harry slipped a strip of gum into his mouth and smiled, "Our client lists are protected by iron clad confidentiality agreements that were agreed by both governments."

M's eyebrow twitched and he glared at Shacklebolt who had nothing to contribute. Instead he leant forward, "Harry-"

"We will work with you." Harry cut off, green eyes no longer twinkling, he was as intent or authoritative as any politician Arthur had ever encountered, "This isn't something I'm prepared to waste time negotiating on."

M paused, seeming to take his measure properly for the first time, "We have no reason whatsoever to trust you."

"Nor I you." Potter's cool voice returned, "If you recall, it was non magicals that drove wizards into hiding in the first place."

Father bared his teeth, "What are you implying?"

Potter barely glanced at him, "We all have our agenda Minister. The only one that currently matters is the one we can agree on." 

Shacklebolt ran a hand down the side of his face, he looked weary and more than a little hurt, "Harry. Please. Not everything needs to be a confrontation."

"Then please explain to me why my partners have been dragged into this facsimile of an interrogation." he flicked a glance by the door, lip curling on one side, "And the reason why you have Aurors under Disillusionment charms stationed around the room?"

No one in the room flinched, and that was proof enough in itself. Arthur thought it would be a stupid idea. Potter opened his jacket and threw across the table four wands which were collected at once by their owners. Everyone else went for their weapons at once and Potter grinned. Stood up. And bright red light came at him from all directions. 

Everyone in the room ducked. Arthur missed a lot, because he was too busy avoiding errant magic, but he grasped very quickly that it wasn't just Potter that was a force to be reckoned with. Pansy had her opponent chained up and bleeding from the nose in seconds. Hermione and Ron worked back to back, defending Potter who stormed through the other four as though they were nothing. When they dropped their wands all of Shacklebolt's guard were unconscious. One had a particularly nasty case of boils on his face. 

"Monstrous!" father yelled, "How dare you come at us with magic!"

"We weren't coming at you!" Pansy hissed, dark eyes flaring with anger and frustration, "You drew on us!"

Potter was still chewing gum, surveying the room with a small smile on his lips before settling on M, "If you want our input Mallory you will have to go about it the usual way. Make an appointment." and he vanished in thin air, his partners following in his wake until they were all alone as before. 

Arthur sighed, then glared at his father, "I told you that threatening him wouldn't change anything."

"Why haven't you imprisoned them yet!" he demanded of Shacklebolt, "He is clearly a threat to both your world and ours!"

"Harry Potter is a hero." Shacklebolt said in low, rumbling voice and as he rose to his feet Arthur got a sense of who he used to be, before politics took over his life, "He died for the sake of both our worlds. At the very least you should treat him with respect."

Father's lip curled and his cold eyes flashed with that hatred Arthur couldn't understand nor reconcile, "He should have stayed dead."

Shacklebolt's eyes widened, "You do not know what you are talking about!"

"He's too powerful! Look at the fools he made of your elite guards!" father hissed, "He does as he pleases without consideration for the consequences! He needs to be removed!"

James sighed and stood up, "That won't ever happen."

Father's head snapped round, his distaste for James perfectly obvious, "And why would that be 007?"

"Because he has a mission." James said calmly, blue eyes cold as ice, "If death didn't stop him once, it's unlikely to do so again." and he strode away before he could be dismissed. Arthur rubbed his eyes. That seemed like a brilliant idea. Ignoring the increasingly foolish words coming out of his father's mouth he left as well. Politics wasn't his forte, not anymore. All he cared about was protecting Albion and the people in it, by whatever means necessary.


	8. Chapter 8

James sipped slowly from his drink as he read over the case files Q had managed to hack out of PWG's system. It had taken a full night and more cups of earl grey than either of them could count but he'd gotten there in the end.

It wasn't looking good. There was a clear overlap between the places Potter or one of his agents had been sent, and the unexplainable deaths of various non magical individuals and settlements. A few villages in the Middle East, a mistress here, a pointless office worker there. There didn't seem to be much of a pattern.

"We have to present this to M." Q said in a terse, irritable voice.

"You know what he'll do." James flicked onto another file. One thing for magic, he supposed, was how clean it made murder.

"It's too coincidental." he was leaning against James' side, working through the data on a laptop as his legs stretched out across the sofa, "Too neat. It's clearly a set up."

"I don't think that really matters anymore." he turned his head, resting the tip of his nose briefly in Q's wild curls, "They want PWG shut down."

"It's straddles both our worlds too intricately." Q muttered, "They must know that removing it will leave a series of small wounds across both societies that will make them vulnerable."

James thought about Potter's other initiatives. Their educational programmes and charity work. The advocacy for those disadvantaged by the ministry. How they were integrating non magical people in the workforce. Picking skills over magic. It was quietly revolutionary. Not to mention how many influential people the world over that owed Harry a favour.

"This is a little beyond my remit Q." James murmured.

"In what sense James?" he sounded a little distracted, fingers clacking across the keyboard.

"I'm an assassin. I go where I'm sent." he put his tablet down and rubbed his eyes, "Getting involved in the take down of one corporation is a little outside my pay grade."

"Nonsense." Q tutted.

"And yours as well." James reminded, pressing his lips against Q's cheekbone, "We're servants Q."

"Please James." Q decisively closed his computer screen and turned around so James could see his wide, stormy eyes close up, "I can't recall a single mission in which you haven't gone against orders at least once."

"Within reason." he retorted gently, slipping one hand beneath the heavy waves of Q's hair, "I always fulfil the brief."

"Barely." Q said, voice dry as he crept onto James' lap, "There's something going on 007 and it is our duty to ensure that the people we serve come to the least possible harm."

James brushed his lips against Q's long, pale neck, "So what do you propose?"

"PWG needs to remain." Q softened against James, his dexterous hands sliding across the wall of muscle James called a chest, "It has the potential to bridge an arbitrary and now acceptable divide between two worlds that could benefit from one another."

"You just want Shin's tech." James rumbled, slipping his fingers beneath Q's light shirt to feel the soft skin beneath.

"I want to quantify Harry's power." Q murmured, "He isn't like the others."

"True." he agreed, "But neither are we like the rest."

Q hummed in agreement before taking James' lips for his own. It was a very gradual shift from lazy work intimacy to the stronger, much more personal connection they shared. The transition was always a little bit complicated. The roles they played day to day were more than just skin. Q was responsible for the safe keeping of intelligence that, if it ever fell into the wrong hands could change the game they played forever. James was a killer in service of the Crown. Those weren't personas.

Coaxing one another into trust was about breaking down. Q started to pull James' shirt from his shoulders, pressing his lips against that nasty scar in his shoulder while his fingers brushed against James' tight nipples. There was a rush of breath against his ear. Q shifted as James' strong fingers slipped down the back of his trousers, one hand gripping him, the other teasing the crack of his arse that he pushed back against.

With exaggerated care they undressed one another. Their armour discarded bit by bit until James had Q beneath him, the two of them sliding against one another in a slow, sensual rhythm that lulled them into intimacy. When Q breathed, "Please James," into his ear everything became much more urgent. Slipping his hands beneath Q, James moved, stood, hauling up Q who's lips remained buried against his neck as James went directly to the bedroom with Q's legs tight around his waist.

Falling into a graceless tumble, James urged Q up the bed as he reached out blindly for lube, warming it on his fingers before he slipped one finger inside Q who arched and shuddered in a display James had never gotten accustomed to. The honesty of it. The way their eyes met and he knew without doubt that they had perfect trust here, just between the two of them.

Pulling James down for a kiss Q rolled them, so he could reach behind and grasp James' hard cock. He groaned once, then again, as Q settled. Head thrown back in pleasure as he grew accustomed once again. James had been gone for too long. He was always gone too long.

"Q." James murmured.

Nodding, Q started to shift his hips. A slow, forceful move that dragged James' cock over just the right spot, spreading heat and pleasure. James kept his hands on Q's slim waist, bending his knees so he could meet Q thrust for thrust. The slow sensuality of earlier stripped away until need and lust drove each crash of their bodies. James sat up so Q was nestled firmly in his lap, breathing heavily into one another's mouths, James' strength matched by Q's relentless pace as he chased his release. Just as single minded as when he guided James through a mission.

"Oh James." Q all but sighed as he came, his entire body shuddering as orgasm swept through him. Through James seconds later. Tumbling down onto the bed, James pulled Q close. Breathing in the damp scent of his dark wavy hair.

Q hummed and rubbed his face against James' chest, "I do hate it when you aren't here."

"As do I." James murmured.

"Hardly." he tutted, "You're a complete terror between missions."

"Then allow me to rephrase." he said in a low rumble, one hand resting low on Q's hip, "I hate that I can't be with you."

"Better." Q shifted round so he could kiss James, a slow drift of lips and breath, before he settled down once more. James felt the moment he slipped off into sleep, the steadying out of Q's breathing. It was soothing. Light was still pouring in from the living room but he couldn't bring himself to move. There was little point. Neither of them slept solid hours and thanks to Harry's intervention they were both better rested than usual. Shin mending his arm with a whispered word also helped a little.

Q sniffled and rolled to the side. James couldn't help but smile as the sheet slipped down, revealing the slim, neat line of his back. It was astonishing, really, how little it took these days for happiness to float to the surface. When this began, soon after Skyfall, it was a reckless distraction. Fucking his superior was a childish, spiteful attempt to take something back from the new regime. Mallory and his genial, political approach to running the agency. Moneypenny and her cool, sly flirtations. And Q who more than anyone represented the new world.

A mind that processed as ruthlessly as the machines he could adapt for a seemingly endless array of lethal applications. Neutral and objective, with a sharp, wry humour Bond could only match and never outwit. So dismissive, of everything that he stood for, everything he had fought for. Bodies piled up behind him, hands dripping with blood. Then there was this boy. No one said it outright, but Q was dragging Six into the future. More than that, he was changing the game.

Silva was onto something when he referred to the agency as a ruin.

Then again Silva was a rogue agent. Smart, certainly, but he was a soldier first and a hacker second. What he achieved would be impossible now. Should have been impossible then. Q overhauled the entire system and made it so impenetrable that these days colleagues abroad muttered about the inconvenience of having to receive tips through the official channels. James knew that without Q, England would fall. It was galling, and infuriating how casually he wore his genius.

James hadn't bothered with a slow seduction. From the beginning his intent was clear. Sex, uncompromising, without attachment. Q understood and accepted without question, which somehow made it all worse. Even when Bond had him, writhing and begging, flushed and incoherent with pleasure Q was intractable and unknowable. It wasn't supposed to be that way. James was a Double-Oh agent and sex was one of the most refined weapons in his arsenal. He always found a way to make those beneath him vulnerable. Some chink in the armour that he could slip a knife between. Q was too complicated, too familiar with his methods for that.

They were physically compatible, flirtatious and always professional. Q continued to guide him through dangerous missions. Let him get down on his knees in Q's office while the minions carried on their work behind a pane of frosted glass. Listened as he seduced his marks, offering cues and weaknesses over comms in the same tone of voice he used when recommending the weapon Bond should be using under fire. They were never lovers and the longer it continued, the more frustrated James became.

A year ago he returned from a mission that had gone disastrously wrong. Their intelligence was flawed and the daughter he promised refuge to was killed in the crossfire. It was the first mission Q handed over to his subordinate and an innocent girl had died because of slow reaction times and conflicting intelligence streams. Skipping the check in at Six, he headed from Heathrow direct to Q's flat. An attractive studio in Hackney that doubled as Q's second workshop-weaponry, wires and temporary servers scattered around a wide, bare space with a decadent four poster bed situated in the corner.

The security wasn't fully engaged. Q was in. In a minute flat he'd broken through the locks and deadbolts, expecting to find Q at his workstation in loose pyjama bottoms with a bottle of Hendricks at his elbow. Instead the bed was creaking. Two bodies were writhing on the sheets. Q's pale back was unmistakable, as were the soft breaths of pleasure as another man lay prone beneath him. Arms tied to the bed posts.

Rage, black, icy and lethal sharpened Bond's focus all at once. He'd been left abandoned on the battlefield-making the extraction point by seconds-and Q was here. In bed. Chasing pleasure instead of doing his duty. Moving silently, Bond removed his knife and wrapped one arm around Q's chest, resting the knife at his throat. The man beneath Q started, eyes growing wide, breath catching in fear.

"007." Q's voice was raw but steady.

"Could you please explain to me where you were?" Bond didn't dare raise his voice, his senses assaulted by the thick, animal scent of sex combined with the familiar flavour of Q's soft skin.

"I don't have to explain anything to you." he shifted a little and the man beneath him gasped. James tightened his grip on the knife and pressed it harder against Q's throat. Close to breaking the skin. Q was slight, powerless against James's superior strength and skills, which didn't explain why he was the one that felt uneasy. As though he was missing something.

"She died." he hissed, tightening his grip on the knife.

"I know." Q snapped his head round and James just held back a hiss when he felt the knife catch, blood trickling slowly down Q's flushed chest, "It wasn't just her."

"Quartermaster." the man below him murmured, some equilibrium returning through the fog of fear and arousal.

Q's stormy dark eyes flicked towards his lover, and back to Bond, "What do you want 007?" his lips curled into a smile that more closely resembled a snarl, "You know you're always welcome in my bed."

Growling, James lowered the knife and pulled Q away, so easily done, slamming him up against the wall while the man on the bed shouted out and twisted to escape the restraints, "An innocent girl was killed because you weren't there!"

"She wasn't part of the mission!" Q hissed, and for the first time James thought he was finally seeing it, getting a glimpse of the man beneath that cool facade, "You can't keep promising freedom to every pretty girl that captures your eye 007. It doesn't work that way!"

"She was more than that!"

"Yes." he was sneering, eyes dark and cold, "She was a shining beacon of innocence in the dark, bloody mess you call a life."

James tightened his grip on Q's neck, "She was being whored by her own father!"

"Ah. So that's it. One colleague to another."

James knew his worth. The things he did for Queen and Country. The fact that he sold his body for information didn't trouble him anymore. It seemed so small in the scheme of things.

"I know what I am." he growled, "What does it say about you, Q? That you would accept the services of a whore?"

"It says that I'm too busy to waste time on emotional entanglement. That your petty vendetta against me is less significant than your body and its considerable uses."

Rage sparking, James pulled back his fist and found it caught. The lover was free. Strong and adept, James thought he was an SIS agent on track for Double-Oh status. Younger than Bond. But too soft. He'd just been in the middle of fucking-not fresh from a mission, all combat senses on high alert. James smashed him in the solar plexus and he collapsed to the floor. Glad to be rid of that obstacle Bond spun around, ready to finish what he started with Q and snarled at the gun pointed in his face.

"You can't shoot me!" he hissed.

Q fired, bullet grazing just over his left shoulder, "Try again 007." he instructed, gun steady. James pulled up, let his arms fall to his sides and Q nodded, weapon still raised, "Now explain why you're here instead of back at Six."

"You left me with a complete inadequate."

"I'm aware. He has been reprimanded and demoted."

"He deserves what she got!"

"No. You are can blame me for poor judgement. However, based upon the initial parameters of the mission he was a suitable choice." Q's thumb was caressing the hammer, dark eyes glinting with anger, "It was a simple seduce and kill Bond. You weren't supposed to extract the girl. The moment you removed her from the compound, you triggered a series of events that resulted in the destruction of a cartel we were relying on to stabilise the region."

"I don't see how their destruction is a bad thing."

"It isn't. We will adapt and develop a new strategy. Nevertheless it was his job to keep you on task and he failed-compromising the mission and resulting in the murder of a girl that had no reason to die aside from you narcissistic desire to play hero when self hatred rears its ugly head."

There was something else shifting beneath Q's skin. James could sense it.

"Who else died?" he demanded.

Q lowered the weapon, yet his stance remained strong, shoulders straight, clearly indifferent to his nudity, "004 and 0012."

James' hands clenched into fists and Q raised his weapon again, "What happened?"

"The asset was a ruse. Things got very bad, very quickly." he lowered his weapon once more, "The only mercy I could offer was commandeering a drone from our American friends and saving them from any further torture."

James felt cold, "You didn't give them an opportunity to escape?"

"There was no opportunity, nor would there be." he walked past Bond, stepping primly over his lover and dragging a bottle of gin out the fridge, "They were taken by fanatics. They would turn or they would break. Extraction was out of the question." he flung back a swig and leant on the kitchen counter, arms taut, "We couldn't negotiate."

James prowled round the counter, "Did you even try?"

"Of course I tried!" Q shouted, "I try, I try and I try and it's never enough!" he pushed past Bond and headed towards his computer, "Do you know what it's like 007? To sit and listen to the sounds of your people as they are dismembered and electrocuted?" he flicked a switch on his computer and Bond flinched at the sound of screaming, crying and begging. James recognised the voice of his comrade. 0012-Jonathan O'Hare. A tough old bastard who'd joined the Double-Oh programme not long after he did. He was relieved when Q shut it off again, sipping from the bottle as he held the gun comfortably in his other hand.

"I had to clear out the comms room. My people didn't need to hear that horror. The high jacking of the drone I did alone, without authorisation, and M has suspended me for the foreseeable as punishment." his posture shifted and he stalked back towards James, who was quickly reappraising his Quartermaster and the foolish affair he'd started, "So yes 007 your girl is dead because I was running another mission. I am not yours alone. My world does not begin and end with whatever mess you have created. You've grown dependent on me to get you out of trouble and I am tired of it." he pressed the gun against Bond's chest, the barrel was hot from being recently fired, "It is time you grew up and accepted some fucking responsibility. You are not a hero-you are like me, a tool, or a weapon to be used by Her Majesty's finest. We do not act alone. There are consequences." he took another swig of the bottle, stormy grey eyes dark, expression blank with fury, "Now get the fuck out of my flat. I was in the middle of someone."

There were a thousand things James wanted to say, and it was obvious Q wasn't interested in hearing any of them. So Bond accepted the dismissal and left. Drank himself into oblivion and waited to be called into Six for another mission. Q was suspended for three months and in his down time he developed twenty new types of malware, streamlined and integrated the other Q branch systems he hadn't gotten round to yet, fully weaponised his vintage Jaguar E-Type and invented a new alloy that he had integrated into bullets, knives and body armour. All of this Bond picked up from Moneypenny, who had become something of a go between following their argument. Break up. Bond still wasn't certain which.

Either way he'd been pursuing a mark across Istanbul when he'd been caught and captured. It wasn't looking good. The voice in his ear had been compromised by the signal blocker they'd installed in his makeshift prison-a crumbling mansion with a battered old cellar that he couldn't do much about, seeing as he'd been drugged within an inch of his life. All in all he thought his death could have gone worse.

Until there was a crackle in his ear, followed by Q's voice, "Status 007."

"Fucked, Q."

There was a tut, "Now now 007. Let's save that for later."

He snorted a laugh, then coughed, "Unfortunately it's not an exaggeration. They've got me drugged. Ketamine and liquid cocaine if my hallucinations are anything to go by."

There was a slight, irritated huff of breath, "Well that complicates things somewhat." he could hear the clack of keys, Q's voice as he fired out orders in abrupt shorthand James couldn't follow, "I'm sending in another agent. How frequently do they interrogate you?"

"Clockwork. Every six hours. Cocaine to get me talking. Ketamine to get me to relax before the next interrogation."

"You sound lucid."

"I'm due an upper." he drawled.

Q made another irritable noise, "Your extraction is scheduled for midnight."

"Naturally."

"Quite." Q agreed, his tone drily amused, "I presume you haven't cracked yet?"

"They're amateurs Q." he said, moving, groaning as he momentarily rested on a fractured arm, "I'm more embarrassed than concerned by the whole thing."

"Aren't we all." he muttered.

"I thought I'd been cut off." he sipped from the one bottle of water he received per day, "No comms."

"I might have directed a power surge that destroyed their electronics. By the time they have another scrambler they'll be dead and you'll be safe in the bosom of merry old England once again."

The extraction went smoothly. Or so he was informed. Alec had dragged his sorry, incoherent arse out of Turkey and when he came round he was installed soundly in medical, Alec slouched and asleep on his right, Q active and busy on his left. When he shifted Q's attention snapped in his direction.

"007."

"Quartermaster." his throat felt like it was bleeding, "You look well."

Q pursed his lips, put the tablet aside and briskly left the room. A little miffed about being dismissed while currently powerless in his own hospital bed, James was contemplating throwing something at Alec to wake him when Q returned, carrying a bottle of water and a clipboard.

"Sign these and we can escape."

Impressed, Bond did exactly as ordered. Q shook Alec firmly awake, deftly dodged a reflex attack and told him to help James to the car. Expecting to be returned home, he was more than a little perturbed to be delivered at Q's studio in Hackney. It wasn't as though they'd left things on a positive note.

"Q-"

"I'm not interested 007. Your body is due to undergo withdrawal. Someone needs to be around."

Alec dropped him unceremoniously onto the sofa, and he asked after an indulgent groan, "Yes, but why here?"

"I'm still suspended." he settled down at his computer, "Perhaps marginally more suspended than I was yesterday after hastening your extraction from those amateurs in Istanbul."

James looked at Alec in disbelief. Shrugging, he slunk through to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. It was an oddly propriety move and James struggled to ignore his jealousy. He and Alec had shared lovers on more than one occasion and goodness knows Q's sex drive was on par with a Double-Oh's at the best of times-but Alec. Alec was his. Q was-fuck knows what Q was.

"I'd rather return to my own flat."

"No."

"Alec." he appealed.

"I'm on mission as soon as I leave here." the smell of coffee drifted over, "Deep cover. No idea when I'll be back."

Rubbing his eyes, James glared at Q, "You can't keep me here."

Q glanced up from his screen, eyes glinting with mischievous cruelty, "I'll tie you up if I have to 007. Take the path of least resistance."

In the end he was too tired to argue and once the withdrawal truly kicked in he was glad someone else was around. Q's bedside manner couldn't be called kind precisely, but he had researched every stage of the process and anticipated what he needed before James could even ask for it. Much like when they were in the field in fact. Which started a train of thought that he clung to through the shivering, rattling pain and hallucinations.

From the start, Q had given Bond what he needed. In truth he had no idea what Q wanted.

On the second morning of feeling human again, he shuffled out of the shower and unceremoniously dropped himself into a seat opposite Q's many work screens. The ones he was supposed to be suspended from. Dressed in a thick burgundy cardigan and a pair of loose lounging trousers, there were deep circles under his eyes and he was clinging onto his mug of earl grey for dear life.

"What will you do?"

Q looked up and hummed the question, "What?"

"Six. You've defied them twice. They may not let you return."

"They have two options. Let me back or order my assassination." he sipped from his drink and slouched, putting on foot on the desk, his cardigan shifting to reveal one dusky nipple, "I'm confident that the only person that could get close enough for that to happen is you."

James smiled, though his face was hurting, "I'm glad to have my skills acknowledged at last."

Q's nostrils flared and he looked back at the screens, "That isn't the reason 007. I suggest you use some of those brains you keep insisting you're in possession of and figure out why."

Running his fingers through his damp hair, James sighed and leant forward to rest his elbows on the desk. Shifting a little to the left so he could peer at Q between two screens, "It's because you trust me just a little bit more than you do anyone else. Because you can foresee a scenario in which you let me in, for just a moment, and I'll put a bullet between your eyes without hesitation as reward."

Q leant forward to type something with one hand, "Vulgar imagery but along those lines, yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, trying to hold back another sigh.

"Tell you what?" Q said incredulously, "This is no confession of love and undying affection 007. I'm not one of your 'Girls'. Frankly I find this entire situation intolerable and if I could surgically remove any _feelings_ I have for you it would be done in a heartbeat." he sat back, his expression frank, cold and deeply angry, "Nevertheless I cannot and here we are."

James took a moment to let that settle, sitting up straight, holding back a shiver at the cooling water on his skin. It was never warm in here. Rather than wait for a response Q simply went back to work, ignoring James as though he wasn't there, which was something of a relief.

Getting up, he took an extra long time to dress. A pair of soft jeans and a t-shirt that was still too tight despite the muscle mass he'd lost during withdrawal. His skin felt raw but it was better than the dank sleep clothes he'd been wearing for the last week.

Making a coffee and lighting a cigarette, he returned to where Q was sitting, "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing 007." was the terse response, delivered distractedly as he typed up some incomprehensible looking code.

And that was it, he supposed. Bond had been with more lovers than he could count and each and every one of them had demanded something. The spies were out for intelligence. The marks desired his body. The innocents longed for safe passage out of their wretched lives. Vespa had wanted him to be a different man, and he'd loved her anyway. Q didn't care about any of that.

He didn't believe in heroes, accepted the killing and violence without a second thought and was just as dangerous in his own right. Q had no need for him. Bond was a hindrance to his ability to act objectively in any situation. Emotionally unstable, demanding, and always in the worst kind of trouble James simply took up too much of his time. Q was a genius. The transfer of his attention to a brutish old wardog was inconvenient when he could be changing the world with code and weaponry.

"Well I want something from you." he grasped Q's chair and swung him round when he continued typing, "Listen to me when I'm talking to you."

Q sat up and snatched the cigarette from his fingertips, "Be quick." he took a drag and blew the smoke in James' face, "I'm busy."

"You are cold, arrogant and deliberately selfish in bed." Bond snatched back the cigarette, "I have never felt more belittled than when you dismiss me before your minions, and I used to answer to M." he rubbed his eyes, "The trouble Q, is I trust you a little bit too much as well and I want you to trust me in return."

Q was watching him coolly, eyes narrowed a little, "Why?"

"For the novelty." he drawled, sipping from his coffee and moving closer. Q kindly opened his legs so James could step between them, "I'd like to try caring for someone that actually knows me."

"Caring is asking a bit much 007." Q's red lips were curling and he had the same look in his eye as the night he deliberated grazed James' shoulder with a bullet, "I scarcely even like you."

"Well that's a place to begin then, isn't it?"

Dropping the cigarette in his coffee, James slipped the mug onto Q's crowded desk and eased his knees onto the chair so they were pressed up against Q's thighs. Settling onto Q's lap, James draped his arms over the leather cushion as Q slid down to look up at him, cool fingers moving languorously up James' back beneath the t-shirt. Absently mapping his scars.

"I will never be your boyfriend 007." Q's voice was soft, some of the coldness easing from his expression, "When you are on mission I will continue to take lovers if I need them."

"You're a borderline nymphomaniac Q." James murmured, breathing in the unwashed scent of his hair, "I'd fear for the safety of your minions if there was no one around for you to take your considerable frustrations out upon."

"You say the sweetest things James." and he tilted his head, mocking, challenging, "Come along 007. We don't have all day."

James moved lower so their lips were almost touching, "I hate you, by the way."

Rolling his eyes, Q opened his mouth to retort and James interfered with a kiss before he could. For the first time they fell into bed on something nearing equal terms. With a layer of deception pulled away a glimmer of warmth began to slip between their barbed words. Q opened up slightly and James was drawn into doing the same. Real affection flourished into something nearing happiness. Q would always be mysterious and unapologetic. James was still bound to a bloody death in the field. Nevertheless they shared something that worked.

Q sniffled and rolled round, head resting on James' chest, fingers curled lightly round his arm, mumbling, "Stop thinking James and sleep. Hell is going to break loose and we need to be ready for it."

James kissed his hair, "I know, you're right."

"I'm always right." he kissed James' chest, "Now sleep. Busy day tomorrow."

It was an order made with James' interests in mind, so he did what he was supposed to and followed it. Just this once.


	9. Chapter 9

Hermione's arms were crossed, one hand tightly gripping her wand as she watched Q break through their firewalls. It was something she expected but it didn't make watching their secrets get dragged into the open any easier.

"He's exceptionally good." Draco observed.

"That's precisely what Harry was counting on." Shin said lightly.

"Why? This makes us look like we're guilty." he was peering at the screen, sipping from an ever present cup of herbal tea, "I struggle to see how that encourages them to leave us alone."

"They're never going to leave us alone." Hermione stated, trying to remain rational as their work was rifled through by the creeping intelligence of Her Majesty's most formidable, "This will force their hand."

Draco raised a pale eyebrow, "Distracting them with the truth? It's a little underhand." he smiled, "Very Slytherin. One of yours Granger?"

"Harry and Ron, mainly." she answered, loosening the grip on her elbows and moving to the bar they kept in the lab to pour a glass of red wine.

Draco tilted his head to the side thoughtfully, looking impressed. Naturally. Slytherin's. They were so easy to predict sometimes. This, on the other hand, was a terrible gamble and Hermione was fighting the urge to press the button and pull the plug on this entire plan. They had argued and argued about the best course of action for hours and even though she knew rationally it was sound, her gut instinct was still crying out that they were making a mistake.

There were still too many things they didn't know. For years Harry had been obsessed with a shadow. Something that sent his magic haywire at unexpected times, in unexpected places. Hermione had studied the phenomenon and couldn't come up with a rational explanation, though now she was beginning to suspect there were some facts she was missing.

It didn't bother her that Harry kept secrets from them. Holding back selective truths was something he'd learned from Dumbledore after all, and now he was in a profession where lying was frequently the difference between life and death. Harry cared about them, and his love was a bright, fierce thing that had gotten her through more tough times than she could count.

The problem was despite everything they had been through together, there were just some things he did alone. Alongside this plan was something else. An agenda Harry was concealing, probably without even realising he was doing it, and the unknown variable was making her nervous.

Unable to bear it anymore Hermione dumped the glass of wine on the side and summoned her things, "I'm going to monitor the rest from home. You should both do the same. There's nothing else to be gained from just standing here and watching."

When she returned home Ron and Pansy were reclining together on the living room sofa. They took one look at her, moved apart, and let her drop into the middle. Ron pulled her back against his chest and Pansy twisted so she was leaning against Hermione's side.

"It's a good plan 'Mione." Ron said quietly as he kissed her hair.

"Harry is holding back from us again." she sighed, smiling a little as Pansy twined their fingers together and gently kissed the back of her hand.

"That's nothing new." Pansy reminded dryly.

"Yes but this time there's something else. Connected to Merlin, Arthur and that bloody sword but I just can't grasp what it is that I'm missing!"

"Then try grasping something else." Pansy moved Hermione's hand to her breast and twisted round for a kiss, her lips hot, the taste of scotch on her tongue. Ron shifted a little, fingers slipping up beneath her shirt and Hermione felt the tension drain away beneath the attention of both her lovers.

They hadn't found time to be together, all three of them, for weeks. Between work and their own projects they hadn't been able to just do this. Reconnect. Remind one another that there was one world outside, and the one they created away from it just for themselves.

Rationally it shouldn't work. Two people in a relationship was challenging enough, but the three of them had developed unconventional lifestyle habits over the years and asking one person to deal with the fallout of a particularly bad day just wasn't possible.

She and Ron had fallen into a pattern of being together and breaking up. A cycle that was becoming increasingly damaging, especially as the scrutiny of PWG increased and their position grew more tenuous. It didn't help that Harry had vanished so deep into his own life sometimes it was impossible to compare him to the boy he'd once been. No doubt it was a deliberate contrivance on his part, to make it hurt less when something happened to him in the field. Hermione just found it bewildering. Sometimes she just missed her best friend.

Three had worked for she and Ron once, and now it was working again. It was the right number to deal with the shit they endured each day and Hermione was grateful for what she had now. All that mattered was keeping it. The nerves may have faded a little during their session, Ron fucking Pansy from behind while she worked magic with lips and fingers between Hermione's legs, but sleep didn't come for hours and when it did, her dreams were littered with the dead, old and new.

There was something she was missing and unable to do anything else she just tucked herself against Ron's chest harder, pulled Pansy tighter. They had each other and they'd endured worse before. They could do it again. They had to. To fight one war only to lose it all again...that would finish them off. For good.

\--

"This is all your fault!"

Draco ducked as a vase went flying at his head, "Fuck!"

Shin appeared out of the fire behind him and they collapsed directly on the floor, just in time to miss another piece of furniture get flung across the room, "Over a millennia of existence and you still can't take responsibility!"

"You lied to me!" Merlin shouted, rattling the paintings on the wall as a knife from the kitchen was flung at Potter's head, "You said you didn't know it was him! And you let me kiss you and now-now he won't talk to me!"

Potter batted the knife away with his wand, anger leaving a trail of ruby fire in the air. In retaliation Merlin shattered all the glass in Grimmauld Place and it flew through the air towards Potter who brushed it all away into shimmering sand with one graceful arch of his wand.

Shin hissed from his place on the floor and Draco twisted. There was a cut along his cheek that was bleeding heavily.

"Shin." Potter strode through the debris of the destroyed sitting room went down on his haunches, delicately pushing Shin's face back with his fingertips. The air around them froze and he turned to Merlin with murder in his eyes.

"Leave."

Merlin's eyes were glowing gold, the place in which he stood scorched with power and yet he flinched from the look in Potter's eye, "You owe me."

"I owe you nothing." Potter's voice was dangerous, "You've hurt Shin. Now you have to go."

"Harry-"

"Get out of my house!" he shouted and Draco felt the air rush out of his lungs when the colour of Potter's eyes shifted from green to liquid gold. The wards in the house reacted and Merlin was ejected in a dark flash of light.

"I'm sorry." Potter drifted his fingertips across the cut and it faded away.

Shin didn't comment, but he welcomed the hand up from the floor, "Why did you lie to the most powerful wizard that has ever walked the earth?"

"How soon did you figure it out?" Harry asked instead as he reset the room with another wave of his wand.

"Not as soon as I should have." Shin responded wryly, removing his suit jacket and dropping onto the armchair as Harry summoned a bottle of red wine and three glasses from the kitchen, "You're too good at keeping secrets."

Draco sipped from the glass, kicked off his shoes and curled up. Potter remained standing. He was flushed, breathing quickly and every now and then something would rattle as he pulled his temper back under control. He supposed a distraction was probably in order.

"I ran into Oliver Wood recently." Draco began, deciding gossip and a bit of chatter was the order of the day, "He was having dinner in a muggle restaurant with Dan Tennerly."

"That's the manager of the Harpies." he took another swig, one hand in his pocket, "He plays for Pygmies."

"Rumour has it he's been looking for a pay rise for years but the Pygmies are broke and can't meet his demands."

"Oliver always did have a bit of ambition." Potter remarked musingly, swirling his glass before knocking it back, "I need to take a shower."

Shin was already settled with a book, so Draco headed upstairs to change into something more leisurely. He was in the middle of fixing up a snack when Potter appeared dressed up in a pair of black jeans and the same battered leather jacket he'd worn on the return from a mission well over a month ago.

Snatching one of the carrots he'd been chopping and dipping it in the hummus Draco had just finished, Potter flashed a smile and asked out of the blue, "How are you finding it?"

"What?" he was distracted by the cologne Potter was wearing. It was expensive, and bespoke. What the fuck was Potter doing with tailor made cologne?

"The work Draco." he spoke slowly that twinkle in his eye again, as charming as it was unnerving, "At PWG. How are you finding it?"

"Long." he bit into a carrot stick and picked up the glass of wine he'd left on the side, "Tiring. Emotionally exhausting."

Potter nodded in agreement, "Hermione very reluctantly appreciates your poisons."

"My poisons are exquisite." he agreed in as demure a voice as he could manage, which really wasn't a lot judging by the bright grin that broke out on Potter's face, "And I will graciously acknowledge that you do have the best potions store in the country. Besides mine."

"Those standards of yours Malfoy. If it wasn't sure to be a terrific waste of my time, I'd enjoy making my failure to reach their lofty heights into a game." he had mimicked Draco's drawl and patronising tone effortlessly, his body language shifting so he was lounging against the kitchen counter in exactly the same manner as Draco.

"Polyjuice is more effective." he retorted, pointing at him with the carrot stick he hadn't finished eating yet.

"Polyjuice only changes your appearance. There's more to becoming someone else than just simply looking like them." he also slipped Draco's glass from his fingers and helped himself to a sip.

After moving in, Draco decided that he didn't want to get embroiled in any more complicated conversations about Potter's motivations. Any insight came with the greater cost of revealing how little he actually knew, and with it all the other questions he still wanted to ask. It was a perfectly natural reaction to finding one's former nemesis so changed after ten years apart. Especially when said former nemesis was a spy for hire and troublesome enough to be considered a threat by two governments.

Unfortunately the truth, Draco was evolved enough to admit, was just a tad more depressing than that. Potter had been branded under his skin from day one and Merlin knows-Merlin knows, he needed to work on his vocabulary-he had the scars to prove it. There was a time in his life when all he had to do was poke fun at one of Potter's hapless friends to get his attention and frankly he was starting to find his acceptance into Golden Trio's circle as a bit of a downgrade. Having Potter's regard on his own terms was always the original dream and rejection had twisted it into something sharp and poisonous. Potter accepted everyone, but he couldn't accept Draco? It wasn't fair. It didn't make sense. So he decided if he couldn't be his best friend, he'd be the Boy Who Lived most notorious enemy.

A spot already reserved by the Dark Lord, as it happened, who Draco wouldn't dream of competing with. Typical really. Couldn't even manage that right. Though in Draco's own vigorous defence it was tricky business behaving worse than a maniac obsessed by genocide on the one hand, and a teenage boy on the other. If anything Draco sympathised. They were on the same side, he and the Dark Lord on this. Wanting Harry and going mad from not having.

Generally speaking he could get by. Potter was always present in his life, but in a manageable, abstract sort of way. Potter was an idea to him, someone he pinned his adolescent fury and frustration upon because it was galling to witness someone just getting it right all the time. Friends he could trust with his life. The affections of the enigmatic and powerful Albus Dumbledore. Adulation and affection from people that had never even met him before. Potter was important. His existence mattered, in a more concrete fashion than the Malfoy's lineage ever would.

It was just. Potter was intoxicating. If Draco had a list of attributes of what he would want in a partner, Potter would meet almost all the requirements. Some of the others were moot because he didn't know if Potter had plans to dig out a swimming pool or if he had a house in the South of France, but it was enough to make him scream into the pillow after yet another day of being tortured by. Everything. Everything Potter.

Silent, confident strides. A perfect wardrobe. Warm smiles and simmering anger. Powerful, measured and oversexed. Fierce resolve. Restless, curious and funny-not that Draco would ever admit that to his face.

No, it was just. Potter would probably sleep with him. There had been plenty of signals in that direction and as much as he wanted to get on board-gods did he want to-for the first time in his life Draco was getting a sense of what his mother meant. Devotion, the evolution of love and being with someone, knowing that they felt the same as you in return. The security of it.

Perhaps it was just a side effect of desiring someone who was so patently dangerous. It made the need to keep them close and out of harm's way a bodily ache. The irony of it all was he admired who Potter was, the things he fought for and the clever way he went about it. Draco couldn't envision a scenario in which Harry remained Harry and Draco remained Draco, and they could be together.

Potter was a tease. An enigmatic, sexy, heart breaking tease who had dropped by to flirt before he went out and had frantic, empty sex with some lucky stranger and pretending as though he didn't want to get down on his knees and supplicate himself before Harry for all eternity was becoming an increasing challenge.

But he would get by, the infatuation would fade, and still he would have this. Some of Potter's attention and it was still a significant improvement on being hated. And yet, he couldn't help himself.

"And who are you playing at the moment?"

Potter's lips twisted at the corner, "No one."

"No." Draco disagreed, turning onto his side and leaning his hip against the counter, "Seriously. You can't go from throwing your lover-"

"He's not my lover!"

"Your lover-" Draco repeated, "out of your house to this." he gestured to Harry, "Dressed up and flirting like there's nothing wrong."

Potter handed Draco back his glass and opted to take a swig from the bottle before simply replying, "There isn't anything wrong."

"So you aren't going out on the prowl."

"Prowl?" Potter repeated, a little incredulously, "Is that what you call it?"

"Don't deflect!" his anger was much more real than he expected, enough to surprise Potter as well which he congratulated himself on a little, "Going out drinking and fucking won't change anything!"

"What is it I'm trying to change?" Potter challenged, a spark of their old rivalry coming back to life as he used his temper to try and back Draco into a corner the same way he used to when they were boys.

"The fact that you're alone." the words just rushed out of him and Draco was astonished that he could still do that. Throw out his words and get them to land in just the right way to watch the blood drain from Potter's face. Leaving his eyes stark, vibrant and swirling with hunger for retribution.

"Being alone is the choice I made." Potter snarled, "And I do not need you to judge or pity me for how I choose to cope with the life I live."

"Then stop living it!" Draco cried, "You did enough during the war! Why are you still doing this to yourself? You, more than anyone, earned the right to settle down and have a normal boring life with a house full of squealing children!"

"And I told you why I can't." Potter was frowning at him, dark brows pulling together in confusion, "I don't even want that anymore. I'm not even sure I ever truly did."

Draco opened his mouth to say something and couldn't. He wasn't sure where to go from here and couldn't determine how he'd gone from endeavouring to keep some sort of distance to interrogating Potter about his life choices. As though he had the right to.

Potter ran one hand through his hair, "Look, Draco, this is new to you and frankly it's new to me as well. You're the first person I've accepted in PWG that I didn't have some sort of friendship with in the past. Bloody hell I forgave Pansy years ago!" he flashed another small smile before continuing more seriously, "I knew having you around would be difficult for us both but, to be honest," he huffed a breath, "I'm twenty nine years old and I'm never going to settle down. I enjoy 'going out on the prowl'. It's fun, and exciting." his red lips pulled into a small smile, "In fact, you should come with me."

Draco blinked and leant forward as though he'd misheard, "Excuse me?"

Potter eased into Draco's space and leant over to murmur in his ear, "In case you didn't hear me, I said: you should come with me."

"Why?" he said suspiciously, moving his head so he could meet Potter's eye and resolutely ignoring how close it bought their lips together, "I've got work in the morning."

"I'll tell Hermione to expect you a hour later than usual." he rested one hand on the counter behind Draco, his bare arm rubbing against the leather of his jacket, "What's wrong Malfoy? Scared?"

"Of you!" he spluttered, "Not a chance! We are going out and I am going to snag the hottest guy in the club while you stop and stare in awe."

Potter was suddenly in front of him again, taking another bite of carrot and grinning, "Great. Chop chop. We don't have all night." and sauntered away, leaving Draco wrong footed and aroused. It was a combination he was rapidly getting tired of.

\--

Within an hour Draco realised that going out drinking with Potter, alone, was another monumental mistake. He'd spent a full ten minutes begging Shin to join him, only to be politely rebuked each and every time. In the end he sighed and shoved Potter outside, still grinning the utter bastard, before he grabbed Draco's wrist and apparated them without permission to a club in Soho.

It was small, and dark, playing token gay electro and selling elaborate cocktails he was gasping to try. As he took in the black and white photographs on the wall, red leather booths and tight, sweaty dance floor Draco realised he'd been here before. It catered to muggles and wizards, blurring the lines here and there with showy bits of magic and slipping in wizard booze in with the non magical brand alternative. All glamoured of course, so only the magical clientele could spot them.

Potter was welcomed by the cute boy behind the bar with a kiss on the cheek and a free shot of tequila that he knocked back at once, before hauling Draco closer, introducing him, and ordering the most dangerous looking thing on the menu. Then he was dragged to a ledge just outside the dance floor where he fell immediately into a bantering back and forth with Potter about the boys on the dance floor.

"Definitely a power top." he proclaimed, gesturing towards a heavily muscled, tanned lout with abs that look liked they'd been carved by a particularly zealous sculptor.

"Nope. Bossy bottom." Potter disagreed, smirking and Draco shoved him.

"Bastard! That's cheating if you know!"

"It wasn't cheating when you called out Daddy Issues." he retorted, pointing in his face.

"That was a confession of a deeply personal and mortifying moment in my life!" he shouted over the music, shamelessly taking advantage of the situation to press his entire body against Potter's side, "I was not trying to get one over." he paused, played back the sentence and shoved Potter when he had the nerve to burst out laughing, "Fuck. Off. I hate you!"

"Don't talk rubbish." Potter's arm had settled round his waist at some point, fingers loose and hot through the thin material of his shirt, "That's so ten years ago."

"Well it's trending again." he retorted, sipping from his brutal cocktail which he thought might have vodka, gin and some other nameless spirit in it, topped up with apple, rosemary and champagne. It was delicious. Damn Potter for working out what his tastes were.

"What about him?" Potter asked, pointing to a pretty little blonde with long arms and a haughty stare, "Does he give or take?"

"Both, but he's better as a bottom." Draco said decisively, nodding to a striking guy with dark hair and broad shoulders, "What about him?"

"Flexible, but prefers to top." Potter's voice was deep, and hot, "Trust issues, among other things."

Draco looked at him sidelong, unable to resist glancing at Potter's glistening red lips, "Other things?"

"Other things." Potter repeated slowly, not leaning in, not moving away, but there was something on the edge of his neutral expression Draco understood to be a warning. If he wanted this, he could have it, but there would be consequences.

It was almost a challenge, but without the usual sarcasm and taunting that went alongside it. Potter's thumb was rubbing gentle circles into his hip and the friction was doing strange things to his body, his magic. It felt shivery and sensitive. Ready to rush out against his will just to get at Potter, his skin, that burning core of power he just carried around each day as though it were nothing.

Draco took a long, slow breath and shifted back a little. No. No way he was remotely ready for this. Potter smiled a little, as though he approved, and he headed onto the dance floor. A definite fucking prowl. Slow, graceful and the blonde he'd chosen turned like a deer caught in headlights. One arm behind back, the other wrapped around narrow shoulders, a press of groin to groin followed by a truly dirty dance that ended in Potter devouring the boys mouth in a manner both alarming and intoxicating. Just watching made him breathless.

Taking the suggestion for what it was, Draco slid in amongst the dancers as well. He'd barely started to sway when he felt arms reach out and pull him close. Strong chest, tanned forearms and hair messy enough to blur into black. Resting his head back against the strangers shoulder, he pressed his arse back, grinding against a hard cock as the music continued to flood his veins. It had been too long since someone touched him like this and the moment a hand slipped beneath his shirt, finger's teasing the line of his jeans he turned. Buried his tongue in the other guy's mouth, thrilled for his hunger to be so readily met and returned.

When the guy suggested they take this elsewhere he didn't hesitate to agree. One glance of the club confirmed what he already assumed, Potter and his boy were gone. Relieved, Draco gripped his guys hand. Determined to make the most of the extra hour Potter promised.

\--

"-arrogant, self centred, selfish-"

James continued his push ups, only half listening to the sorcerer pacing back and forth in front of him. When James pointed out that MI6 was supposed to be one of the most secure places in the world and it might be a good idea to leave before he was spotted and hauled into interrogation, Merlin waved him away and said he was invisible and that _wasn't the point_.

So as he worked through each round of reps Merlin recounted all the reasons why Harry Potter was just like Arthur Pendragon and he didn't know why he'd gotten involved with either. This was followed up with a rambling account of the many, many lovers he'd taken over the millennia's and their collective, latent virtues. Even James was forced to stop and enquire when he mentioned in a cast off sentence about the night he'd spent with JFK.

It seriously put James' conquests into perspective.

"Look." he stopped, breathing hard, "Merlin. What are you doing here, exactly?"

He paused mid step and spun around, "I told you why I was here." he stared, "I didn't?" James shook his head, "Right. Sorry. You need to call Harry."

"...Why?"

"He hasn't spoken to me in two weeks."

James peered at him in confusion, "Surely you can talk to his other friends."

"I can't!" he cried throwing his hands up in frustration and carried on pacing, "Harry, the completely impossible arse, has warded them!" noting James' bewilderment, Merlin's nostrils flared and he explained, "Buildings get warded. Stuff. Lands. Not people. Magic isn't supposed to do that!"

"Right." James rubbed the back of his head, "He hasn't warded me?"

"No. Probably isn't worried about me hurting you. Too much-" he waved in James' general direction, "being an assassin going on."

Assuming that was supposed to be a compliment James got to his feet and stretched. It was difficult to ignore Merlin's blatant appreciation, and he might have played up to it a little. One thing that stood out from Merlin's history was his preference for dangerous men. Merlin caught his eye, realised what he was doing and looked away, grinning.

"No. This is what got me in trouble in the first place."

James let his hands drop from where they were stretched above his head, "I can't call him for you."

Merlin's smile faded and James was surprised by how much it stung to lose that brightness, "Why not?"

"We're in the same business." he regretted compounding Merlin's unhappiness, but it was something that couldn't be helped, "I trust Harry and acting on your behalf would undermine that."

Merlin took a deep breath and ran one hand through his messy hair, "I know." he rubbed his eyes, under the lights he seemed pale, high cheekbones sharp, lips bitten, "It's just-I've been having these bloody dreams and he needs to know about them."

"Dreams about what?"

Merlin looked troubled, as though he wanted to answer but shook his head, "I-only Harry would understand. I'm sorry."

James was on the verge of working out a compromise when the door to the gym was thrown open. It was almost midnight and only a handful of people were usually lurking around at this time of the morning. Q strode through with a satchel flung over his shoulder, firing questions at Ryan-Arthur-who was clearly struggling to keep up with them which James sympathised with, a little. Q was like his machines. His mind just kept on working until it was forced into shut down.

"What would you have us do instead?" Q demanded.

"Just hold off-trust our instincts a little bit more." he implored.

"With all due respect Majesty, Q Branch exists because the intuition of Double-Oh agents can't be trusted." Q responded, as chilly and sarcastic as usual, "The prime cause of which is standing before you."

James kept his grin wry, though his face was determined to try and break out into a real smile. Bloody Q. That line had been saved up until he was here. In a position to provoke James with his superiority.

"Double-Oh?" James questioned, "What about your recent capture helped our superiors decide that you deserved promotion?"

Arthur shot him a glare, before his eyes drifted to the right where Merlin was standing, peering curiously. Merlin stuck out his tongue. James snorted a laugh and he dropped the glamour. Arthur's expression shifted immediately into surprise.

"Merlin." he sounded concerned, no doubt noticing all the things that James originally missed, "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing." he looked vulnerable, and strained, "It doesn't matter." he said wearily, disappearing on the spot.

Arthur's expression twisted like he'd been shot. Q shot James a quick, calculating look, "Why was he here?"

"Harry's cut him off." James shrugged, "He was appealing to me for help."

"Potter!" Arthur demanded, "Potter is the reason he looks like that!"

"Partly. He mentioned something about dreams as well."

"Dreams?" Arthur ran his fingers through his hair, "Fuck!" and he turned on his heel and strode away, throwing open the gym doors so hard they slammed against the wall.

Q raised an eyebrow, "Are you some magical matchmaker now?"

"I have no idea." he considered pulling Q close but that wasn't something they risked in Six. Instead Q swung round and James followed. He could shower back at the flat. Q continued working on his tablet as he drove.

Mallory had the data Q hacked from PWG, but they were still waiting for orders on how to proceed. James suspected the Ministry were responsible for the hold up. It might be the first time in his life that James was grateful for a delay. On more than one occasion he'd been asked to take the life of an ally and he'd done it with only minor hesitation. This was different. Harry was a friend, and Q was right, removing PWG would trigger a chain reaction that could damage both magic and non-magical worlds.

Provided that could even be done. Harry wasn't stupid, and he was fucking good. The people he kept close loyal and capable. James doubted their chances at a discreet removal.

"Alec is back in the country." Q informed him.

"What's the count?"

"Broken rib, fractured forearm, mild burns on his lower back."

James tutted as they pulled into the underground carpark attached to his building, "Could try harder."

Q slipped his tablet away and headed towards the lift. As soon as the door to the flat was locked behind them, Q pushed James up against it, lips pressing hard against his. Only years of muscle training triggered the reflex to duck and dodge as a body moved in the dark, firing a blinding flash of green light that illuminated their assailant once, only for them to cast one of those wretched invisibility spells that allowed them to slip back into darkness.

Ducking down, James grabbed the Walther he kept hidden in a panel by the door and rolled as another flash of light crashed against the wall above them. James dived towards the left side of the room and fired in the direction the magic had come from, trying to draw their attention away from Q who had a tablet on one hand, and gun in the other, and was rapidly tapping away in the darkness.

Every single one of James' senses was trained on listening for some hint of movement as he ducked beneath the kitchen counter. He knew that there were spells to hide noise, but he suspected their assailant hadn't had time to cast one. They'd expected their first spell to be enough, invisibility was an afterthought.

There was a rush of air, Q shouted out, switched on the light and fired his gun. James stood and ran, avoiding more bright green spells as he fired back. Gasping in agony as one caught him square in the chest. Pain like nothing he'd ever felt before exploded across every nerve. Screaming against his will, he tried to move, to save Q who was looking pale, and furious. Their attacker dropped the invisibility spell and stepped into view, towering over Q who remained crouching near the door.

"Don't even think about moving." the woman's voice was cool, and light.

Q's finger twitched on his tablet and the woman suddenly cried out. The pain ended. Q fired concisely at both kneecaps, snatching her wand as James collected the plastic ties they kept in store for situations like this. They tied up her wrists and dragged her upright against the wall. There was blood on the floor, again.

"Name." James began, pulling out a knife and going down on his haunches before her. Young. Pale, mousy hair and dark eyes. Nothing distinctive about her.

Instead of answering she bared her teeth and snarled. Q pressed one long finger into one of the bullet holes in her leg and she shouted in agony.

"Your name. Please." Q repeated, his smile a facsimile of politeness as he made a show of inspecting his gun.

She remained silent. Q rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses and pressed something on the tablet. This time she screamed. He ended it abruptly and she sagged, head drooping down towards her chest.

"I'm glad we invested in sound proofing." James commented idly.

Q hummed softly in agreement. Pressed the button on his tablet again and stood up. James trailed behind, keeping an eye on her at all times.

"We can't call this in." Q murmured, rubbing the gun against his face as the girl screamed behind them.

"Q." James was doubtful, he didn't like the idea of this. It was very close to treason.

"They'll raid PWG, and then the ministry. It's a declaration of war."

"They attacked us first Q." he reminded, watching her head roll back as she stopped screaming. Q noted James' interest and pressed that button on his tablet again and she heaved a breath of air before slipping into unconscious. Or seeming to at least.

"Yes, but we don't know who. Harry hinted at a third party." Q looked over his shoulder briefly before turning back to James with resolve, "I think we might have our first lead."

\--

Arthur burst through PWG's offices in a wretched temper. Despite spending hours on national and international databases he couldn't find a single scrap of information on Merlin. There wasn't even a sniff of his existence in the more esoteric files that didn't belong properly in any department.

Typing in Potter's name just bought up a secure file he couldn't access.

Unable to find Merlin and desperate to do something to alter that sadness he'd glimpsed the night before, this was the only option he'd been left with. Remembering the route precisely from his last visit, Arthur shoved open the closed door and strode before Potter, who was sitting crossed legged on the floor surrounded by files that seemed to be shuffling themselves at will.

"We need to talk." he declared, crossing his arms.

Potter glanced up, smiled, and went back to his work, "Then talk."

"Merlin's been trying to get in contact with you."

He paused and looked up, "He has?"

"Yes."

"He's talked to you?"

"He was talking to James."

"Bond?"

"Do we have another James in common?" Arthur demanded in exasperation.

Potter paused from his work and stood up, the line of his suit settling enviably fast. Stepping carefully over the files, he dropped onto the leather sofa in the corner and twisted round, inviting Arthur to sit opposite. Unsure about this significantly friendlier welcome, Arthur perched suspiciously on the edge.

"Tell me from the beginning." Potter instructed.

Irritated, Arthur repeated the incredibly short exchange he'd shared with Merlin, and then James. As he gestured he caught sight of the sword resting casually against the side of Potter's desk. He stuttered and stopped.

"You have my sword."

Potter flicked a glance over it and settled back further into the sofa, "Are you certain it still belongs to you?"

Arthur blinked, "Of course it does. It's Excalibur."

Humming, Potter reached out and the sword shot across the room directly into his hand, "Do either of us have much need for a sword out in the field?"

"That isn't the point." Arthur held out his hand and Potter lightly flipped it round so he could grasp the hilt. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the softened red leather hundreds of memories he thought he'd forgotten came flooding back.

Battle. The clash of steel on steel. Cries of anguish as lives were brutally taken, blood and bone sinking into the muddy earth. Excalibur sung with it. The memory of victories long since passed. Awareness of the losses. Camlaan. Merlin's golden gaze as he killed his sister, the fervour of a sword recognising its creator.

Gasping, he tried to pull away and couldn't. Excalibur wouldn't let go. Memories of what were, contaminated by flickering promises of what could be. London in smoking ruins. James dead and broken. Q alone and vengeful. Merlin silent and glassy eyed as he watched a man like Harry but not running towards something, with Excalibur in one hand as he tore up the world beneath him with the other.

As the ground scorched and cracked, Arthur felt his fingers sag and release.

"Fuck." he sank back gratefully against the arm of the chair, "What the fuck was that?"

"I don't know." Harry slipped the sword behind him without demonstrating any hint of possession, "It hasn't showed me anything."

"Excalibur doesn't recognise me anymore." he murmured, "I don't-" he glared, "This is your fault! First Merlin and then my sword! Are you determined to take everything from me!"

Harry gazed at him steadily, expression barely shifting, "Excalibur is a weapon. I'm uncomfortable that it chose not to return to you." his eyes narrowed just a little, "As for Merlin, your own pig headed naivety is the reason he can't stand to be around you at the moment."

"You're fucking." Arthur's heart was raw at the admittance.

"We've shared an arrangement for eight years." Harry's voice was soft, a new warmth in his expression Arthur hadn't witnessed before, "Em is one of the few people I trust completely."

"You cut him off."

"I had to. He destroyed my home and hurt Shin in the process."

"Why on earth would he do that?" Arthur was bewildered by all of this.

"I admitted that I knew who you were before he kissed me. He thinks I'm to blame for you idiotic jealousy."

"You are to blame." he snapped, "And how did you know?"

"My magic recognised you the moment I broke through the wards." there was a sigh at the edge of his voice, "I should have informed everyone through the comms but I didn't."

"Why?"

Anger flared so quick and sudden Arthur almost missed it. Harry's expression shuttered ruthlessly and he retorted in a low, tight voice, "Because you never know who's listening."

Glancing at the hilt of Excalibur as it rested against Potter's shoulder, Arthur took a moment to sit, and breath, and think. The last two weeks he'd been a mess. Reeling from Merlin's betrayal, his conflicting feelings about the place of magic in Albion and the continued deluge of memories from his old life.

At the moment he was younger than when he died the first time, but not by much. By this age back in Camelot he'd already taken the reigns of the Kingdom from his dying father, fallen in love with Guinevere and was preparing for oncoming war with his sister. Merlin always at his side, in the shadows, his bright smiles and playful words hiding an entire world Arthur had been blind to.

Giving into his truer, deeper desires had come too late. The damage was already done. Duty to his Kingdom and his marriage pushing Merlin away when he should have hauled him closer. Took the time to read between the lines, to see what he was being offered before Mordred could turn and spear him with that bastardised version of Excalibur.

Of course he was jealous of Harry. They hadn't gotten enough time before. Why should now be any different?

Sighing, Harry flicked his fingers and a notepad flew across the room from his desk. Arthur watched curiously as he pressed the tip of his wand against a sheet of paper before tearing it off and holding it out for him to take. Arthur hesitated and Harry tensed his jaw.

"It's his address. Em made me his Secret Keeper a few years ago and I am betraying him by giving this to you."

Taken aback, Arthur took it before Harry could snatch it away.

"Have you memorised it?"

"Yes."

The paper suddenly burned to ash between his fingers. Harry uncrossed his legs and stood up, slipping his hands into his pockets, "Tell him I'll drop the wards when you've reconciled."

Arthur stood as well. They were of equal height and similar build. Harry was perhaps a touch more slender, but he was magical. His body wasn't his only weapon. Before he could think better of it Arthur held out his hand, "Thank you."

Harry smiled a little, though it was a wry and he took it in a warm, firm grip, "You're welcome Pendragon."

"I miss that name." he admitted, squeezing Harry's hand in a sudden relieved burst of fondness, "And I am grateful that he's had someone watching out for his stupid arse...I just wasn't prepared for that." he released his grip and stepped back, "Hope of finding Merlin again is one of the only things that's kept me sane over the last few years."

"Which I understand and appreciate." Harry's smile faded and he grew serious once again, "You've been given a second chance. Few of us ever get that lucky. Take advantage. Don't fuck it up and if you hurt him I'll eviscerate you." his lips twitched into a smile, "Do we understand each other?"

"Completely." he grinned and left, moving almost as quickly as when he'd arrived forgetting about his anger towards Potter. Harry. It didn't matter. Arthur had some grovelling to do.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the gap between chapters was really massive, and I'm so sorry! It's been a busy year and I hit a huge mental block at the end of the last chapter and kept getting distracted by other projects. But I'm locked in now, and hope my updates from now on will be a lot more regular!

Arthur was strongly of the opinion that Merlin didn't even need extra magical protection. Finding the turning towards his home was troublesome enough on its own. When Arthur finally found the patch of ground overlooking the lake, he blinked. Confused. Just about to pull out his phone and complain to Potter when a cottage emerged before his eyes.

Or he supposed it was a cottage once. As he wandered forward he took in the various additions. Each wing was a lesson in historical architecture. Quintessential design from across the ages sprawled along the lake bank. From the low, dark stone entrance of a medieval shack through Georgian farmhouse right up to modern day, with a glass and steel structure capturing the last of the day's light.

A glass screen pulled open and Merlin stood there, watching him speculatively.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Potter gave me your address." he stepped closer, hands in his pockets, "I'm here to grovel for your forgiveness."

Merlin eyed him, "Who are you and what have you done with Arthur?"

Arthur grinned and rubbed his eyes wearily, “I should have thought things through a little longer before shooting my mouth off. It’s still fresh to me...I imagine it's not quite the same for you.”

“Not quite, no.” he agreed, before sighing and moving aside, “Come in. This is a tea conversation.”

Arthur assumed from the patchwork nature of the house that it would be cramped and cluttered inside. In actual fact it was spacious, tidy and smoothly modern. Here and there pieces of art and sculpture from each age of the house were spotlighted, as were pieces of tapestry including a banner of something red and gold emblazoned across his memories.

“No.” he breathed, assailed with bright vibrant moments of times spent before that banner in the throne room of Camelot. Uther. Morgana. Gwen.

“How?” he asked, mouth quite dry as he took in its position. Casually unfurled at the top of a wide staircase, it's the first thing any guest would see if they had taken the conventional route into the house.

“Magic.” he shrugged but there was a delicate blush to his cheeks and he looked young and embarrassed all of a sudden, “I couldn't bring myself to do away with it."

Arthur looked at him sidelong and smiled, warmth, affection and relief easing away the panic of the last few days, "I'm glad you didn't."

The answering smile was bright, encompassing and it blew away any and all doubt. Swinging round Merlin shot over his shoulder, "Come along Sire. There's a mug of Earl Grey with our name on it."

Blowing out a laugh to cover the short thrill of being referred to as Sire again, Arthur threw one more glance at the Pendragon banner and dutifully followed Merlin deeper into the house.

\--

Harry was lolling around on the sofa flipping through files when there was a knock at the door. Shin and Draco were still at work, Merlin ought to be busy reconciling with Arthur and he'd ordered his friends to go home and rest. There were very few options for who could be seeking his attention this time of the evening.

It wasn't until he opened the door that Harry realised he was holding Excalibur with one hand, his wand in the other. Bemused and a bit pissed off, he put up his wand and threw the door open. James and Q, looking wired, serious and anxious. Without word he moved aside, reinforced the wards and followed them through to the sitting room.

Without explaining anything Q handed him a tablet. When Harry went to place Excalibur to the side he realised a sheath was tied to his belt. Taking the hint he put it up and pressed play on the audio file.

"Your name." James' cool voice.

There was a sound of panting breath, a growl, followed by a hiss, "You are the old world Bond. We are coming for you!"

The voice didn't sound right. Harry could feel the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, aware of James and Q getting a drink in the background.

"Who sent you?" Q this time, clipped and cold.

"Harry Potter." it was a sneer, "You should be careful who you trust."

What followed was the muffled sound of a gunshot followed by the rustle of movement, and silence as the recording ended. Glancing up at them both once, he replayed the exchange again. No doubt there was more, but Harry wasn't interested in figuring out why they had chosen this section alone. His instincts were firing up, locked into the sense that it wasn't quite right somehow.

"Do you have a visual to match the voice?" he asked, wanting to keep this distant, keep it professional.

Q obliged without words and Harry was confronted with the dead, bruised face of a woman he didn't know. Not that he expected to. It didn't work like that.

"Was she magical?" he asked.

"Yes." James answered, spinning a wand between his fingers, eyes deceptively calm as they calculated his every move.

"May I?" he held out his hand, didn't press, but he could feel his magic growing restless. It had been getting out of control for awhile now and it was making him uncomfortable.

James hesitated briefly before handing it over. All at once Harry shouted in agony, pain splitting his mind apart. Hissing, he forced his fingers to open and tossed it away, the wand clattering innocuously to the floor. Pressing the heel of his hands into his forehead Harry took slow, deep breaths. He hadn't felt pain like that for years. Since he was a boy and Voldemort was cracking open his head for amusement.

"Fuck." he slumped against the arm of the chair and eyed the thing warily. Glancing up up he saw James clutching his gun, Q's fingers tight on his tablet. Both looked wary, a little concerned. Rather than answer their obvious question, Harry used his wand to bring the thing nearer, to examine it without touching. It looked like any other wand. Oak, ten inches, unicorn hair. A thoroughly conventional wand, capable of channeling average, essentially well meaning magic. Whoever used it to attack James was an ill fit for violence.

Aside from the thing cracking it down the middle. Forced, somehow, like the voice he’d heard on the audio.

“Harry.” James’ voice was still too calm, the grip on his gun steady, “Mind giving us some insight into what that was all about?”

Still feeling drained and ill, Harry placed the wand in its own protective crystal shell and drifted it over towards the coffee table where it hovered like an ornament. Seeking to drown out the throb of his head, Harry poured a glass of whiskey and tried to grasp the strands of his spinning thoughts. In the end he knocked back a drink, poured another and tried to explain a little of what he suspected.

“When I was a boy, there was a-” he hesitated to use man, “being, called Voldemort. The darkest wizard ever to walk the earth, or so the Ministry would have you believe.” he rubbed his eyes beneath his glasses as long buried nightmares of his dead rose to greet him, “He was a blood tyrant and he was directly, or indirectly responsible for the death of everyone I ever loved.”

Q frowned, “That was not in the file.”

“Most of it isn’t-especially not in the non magical translation.” he settled on the sofa, slouched and stretched out while they got settled on the same armchair, James seated, Q perched beside him, “Voldemort started life as an orphan, damaged and unloved. He ended it as the shadow of a human, something broken and mutilated beyond repair.” that darkness rose up again, the promise of who he could be against the reality of who he became, “In magical lore, killing is an act that violates nature. Each life voluntarily taken splits the soul.” he glanced up at James and he saw his own bitterness reflected back in those icy eyes, “Voldemort split his seven times, in an attempt to avoid the dull mortal death he thought he was too special for. With each murder he rendered himself more unstable, less human, and it allowed him to do things other wizards couldn’t.”

“Like what?” James questioned.

“Possession.” he viewed the wand distastefully and took another sip of whiskey, “There are spells for control but they rely on the will of the caster. This was something different. He was able to render himself insubstantial and use it to take over the mind, the heart and body of another.”

Q frowned, thinking, before saying slowly, “She wasn’t speaking correctly.”

“No.” Harry agreed even as his mouth soured.

“She was possessed.” he paled, glancing at James who seemed steady even as fury gathered in his eyes, “James.”

“You think she was innocent?” James questioned.

“I don’t know.” he felt sick again and used the whiskey to push it down, “Voldemort couldn’t take control of me because we were fundamentally different...if they were able to command her then there had to be some compatibility. It wouldn’t have worked otherwise.”

James’ scarred fingers reached across his brow as he scowled into the middle distance and Harry could see him turning it over. Drawing back to the mission. Why they were here at all.

“You didn’t send her?” he questioned, because it had to be asked, because he still had a job to do.

“No.” Harry met his gaze straight on, offering nothing further.

James scrutinised him for a moment before nodding once, “Then it’s a weak play.”

“Only because you overpowered them first, I imagine that wasn’t the plan.” he felt a deep stab of anger at the thought of someone trying to murder his friend.

“Then what, precisely, is?” Q demanded in a taut voice.

“Same as it always is.” Harry sighed, letting his head drop back and eyes close, “Ego and destruction.”

Excalibur was a warm, comforting presence at his hip. Resting his fingertips on the hilt, he felt the ancient, alien presence of origin slip beneath his shields. There was a flare of memory. Muddy fields, icy cold wind and the shouts of soldiers dying in the rain. Blood and the crack of bone beneath hooves. Excalibur sang, secure in the hands of the most noble, most powerful man in Albion.

There was a shout and discord shuddered through the air. Arthur whipped round at Excalibur's urging, to find a man striding towards him. Young, pale, blue eyes flat with hatred and despair, dragon blade in his hand. Wrong. Ill forged. Jagged at the edges.

Skipping forward to the moment Arthur paused too long and was impaled. A shard of something poisoned tearing apart his body, his heart. Merlin’s tears, and anger, and despair, followed by a millenia of silence. Water. Echoes and the regathering of hatred so old and deep even the march of years couldn’t dull its momentum.

Harry came back up with a gasp.

\--

They drifted around the cottage, and talked. It started light, some leading conversation about the weather before Arthur crumbled apologised for his complete and utter idiocy. Merlin accepted it with a slight smile and moved the conversation on.

“I know it's not Uther.” he toyed with the handle of his porcelain tea cup, “But he says these things…and he hates magic.”

Merlin peered at him thoughtfully, “It’s possible.”

“What is?”

“Some souls like to move in groups, forever circling one another. Every few generations I encounter what I believe to be Gwaine and Percival. Gwen and Lancelot.” he looked into his cup, eyes shimmering, “Gaius and my mother.”

“But never Morgana, or Mordred?”

Merlin shook his head, “Not yet, but if they were magical and remembered like you then it wouldn’t be difficult for them to conceal themselves from me.”

“You think they would?”

“I don’t know what to think.” he rubbed his eyes, looking weary and frustrated, “I keep dreaming of things that don’t make sense. Enemies that can’t be seen. London in ruins. And Harry at the centre of it all-as though he hasn’t given enough already.”

Arthur chewed the inside of his lip, “I saw something similar, when I touched Excalibur for the first time.”

“I haven’t felt like this since the beginning.” he admitted, running fingers through his messy hair and stepping back from the table and heading deeper into the house, leaving Arthur little choice but to follow, “I mean, even you must be able to see how much magic’s changed? They’re wizards not sorcerers. Clever, certainly, but artificial somehow. Concerned with shortcuts, trickery and abstract theory rather than the baseline of magic itself.”

“How did that happen?” Arthur questioned, as Merlin handed him a glass of red wine and settled in a deep wing backed armchair, a fire springing to life in the grate as the world remained black and silent all around them.

“I’m not sure-I didn’t spend a lot of time here in the early half of millennium. I suspect it was just a reaction to changing needs. My magic is based in nature, will and love and power entwined.” he half smiled, “But not all who use magic have grand purpose. Populations grew. Communities settled instead of being nomadic as the Druids used to be. I think they just didn’t need the brute force anymore.”

That made sense, Arthur reflected. It was true in the non magical world as well. A shift away from the collective towards smaller units comprised of the individual. Merlin was forged in a time of gods and heroes. Great evil that could only be refuted by great good. Once he thought them battling for such high stakes but looking back now, as just a man, he could see the wheel of history turning. Empires rise and fall. Camelot was no different, even though the thought of his home, his people and his failure to defend them still hurt. An ache he’d never be able to soothe.

“Potter.” Arthur murmured, “Why is he different from everyone else?”

“For reasons I believe are extremely personal to us.” Merlin’s expression was dark, eyes glittering in the firelight. Before he could open his mouth to respond there was a flash of light and the building started to shake, followed by a deep, grinding noise Arthur could feel in his bones.

“Fuck!” Merlin jumped up from his armchair and grabbed Arthur’s wrist, “The wards are under attack. We need to get out.”

As they ran into the hallway the front door burst open and men in combat gear ran in, guns raised in formation. Before he could even grasp the image Merlin had thrown them all back with a brush of his hand and continued to lead Arthur back, towards the lake, shouting, gunfire and the colourful rush of magical curses exploding behind them.

“What the hell is going on?” he turned and picked off one of their assailants as Merlin dragged him out into the night, where they were irrefutably surrounded.

“That’ll do!” called out a calm, commanding voice, “Just come along with us Emrys and no harm will come to your companion.”

Arthur bristled at the implication that he needed protecting, but rather than bother responding, Merlin’s eyes flared gold and Arthur’s ears started ringing. So they were fighting then. Good. Giving in had never really been his style.

\--

“Harry?”

Blinking, he shook his head and sat up. Shin and Draco were back, peering at him. Q had peeled off his coat and was slumped down on the arm of the chair, one leg on the floor, the other propped up to balance the tablet he was working off furiously. James had a book. Time seemed to have passed.

“How long was I out for?” he asked, a little thrown.

“Twenty minutes.” James answered without looking up from his book, “Good dream? You were making some curious noises.”

“Bloody sword.” he muttered, rubbing his eyes and sitting up, glancing at Draco who was kicking off his shoes and tugging off his tie while Shin followed his own post work routine, “Did anything come up while I was gone?”

“Nothing of interest.” Draco paused and seemed to consider the statement, “Which I’m sure means I’ve been there too long already.”

“Oh you know. Fits and starts.” Harry agreed lightly, standing up to remove the sword and try to loosen the tension in his limbs. When he stretched to his tip toes and fell loose again there was a rush of energy through the room. They all looked at him and he shrugged.

"My magic's been acting up lately."

"You've made it warm in here." Draco complained, flicking down an extra button on his shirt and Harry appreciated the reveal of porcelain skin. A tease of collarbone, the dip at the base of his throat. He had a sudden intense longing to touch, and taste. Draco’s cheeks flushed and Harry held back a curse under his breath.

The first time it was a complete accident. Draco had been sitting there, defiant and challenging. Silver eyes glinting with thinly veiled desire and his magic had seeped out beneath his skin, brushing against the promise of pure white flesh. It had never been a kink for him before, the desire to take something unblemished and mark it beyond recognition. Claim it as his for all to see.

It was an urge that felt his, and not. Something old, amoral. Twined with the very core of his magic that was undergoing a shift so gradual he’d hardly noticed until it was now a force similar to Merlin’s. Only different because he was far from pure. Excalibur’s preference for him proved that.

Just as he was about to open his mouth, a lemur patronus burst through his wards. Harry felt a shock of feeling at its presence. Seventeen years old and the last line of defence. Cold, alone and brooding on death with demons whispering in his ear.

_Harry! Diagon Alley is under attack. I'm calling you based on the bond we once shared-please. Help us. We will fall otherwise._

It dissipated. Harry rubbed his stubble and ran a hand back through his messy hair. The timing wasn't right. His instincts were screaming at him, but it was Friday night. The bars and restaurants would be packed. Too many innocent people for him to ignore.

“Shin call in Code Red. All the agents in apparating distance are to mobilise under disillusion at Charing Cross.” he looked at Draco, “Get back to PWG. We’ll need eyes and ears on Diagon-and the Ministry. Something about this isn't right and we need as much information as we can get.”

“What about us?” James asked, eyes sharp, body tense with the urge to do something.

“You’re MI6. If you’re spotted it’ll make us look like you’re our ally and it’ll make a delicate situation even worse.” he looked regretful, “Next time, I promise.”

Q’s eyes were hard, “What are the chances of this spilling out into non-magical London?”

“That depends on the nature of the threat.” Harry answered neutrally, “Ron is your liaison.” and with that he grabbed his mobile phone and ran upstairs to change and deliver the plan to Hermione, Ron and Pansy. Q flicked a glance at James. They knew they ought to call this in, it was their duty, but instinct held them back.

“We’ll call you if we need you.” Draco assured with a smile, clearly tense, before vanishing into the fire behind Shin.

With nothing else to contribute they departed Grimmauld Place as discretely as possible. They were exhausted, and Q had at least a dozen other active threats into national security that required his immediate attention and magic was by no means his speciality. It would just have to wait.

\--

It was worse than Harry thought it would be. There was no order, just people firing magic on the innocent with a thirst for destruction he hadn’t witnessed since Death Eaters had been allowed to roam free. There was laughter, jeering. Men and women without colours shattering windows, firing spells and curses, spilling blood, manic and mindless.

“I need eyes Draco.” Harry muttered under his breath as he ordered ten of his agents to fan out, stay hidden, discreetly protect who they could while they had a better idea of what was happening.

“There’s no pattern Harry.” Draco murmured, his voice distracted as he worked, “No formation, no aim.”

Harry watched keenly from beneath the cloak, some attackers were moving, others were solitary. The bodies of men, women and children falling at their feet as Aurors fought desperately to round them up. Seeming to succeed before they were attacked from another angle and their work was rendered useless once more.

Harry considered the wand. The fact that some of these people were dressed in uniform, as though they were going to or from work. One or two Auror’s in crimson robes turning against their own.

“They’re possessed.” he muttered, “Whoever’s controlling them has a vantage point above Diagon alley. This is a distraction.”

“Well it’s working.” Draco muttered.

“Where are the least amount of people?” he questioned.

“North, Gringotts. There’s a small cluster.” he paused, “And they’re moving.”

Deciding that was it, Harry ordered three of his agents to pursue. Protect who they could but watch, and wait. Act when they had to. Something was happening and he wouldn’t tolerate not knowing anymore. Long ago he made the decision that the darkness wouldn’t come for him. Not again. Too long powerless and waiting while Voldemort destroyed everything he loved, trusting the wrong people. Allowing his desire for normality to overrule hardwired instincts. That ended a long time ago.

Cracking his neck from side to side, Harry gripped the Elder Wand in one hand, Excalibur in the other and waved away the cloak. He’d only blasted away one man about to slice apart a screaming girl when they all did exactly as he expected.

Calling in eerie unison, thirty or so monotone voices, “Once and Future King.”

“Potter?” Draco questioned, sounding doubtful and irritable.

“There’s one person who won’t move.” Harry stated, throwing up shields and letting his body relax, magic flow, “No one helps me. Stay hidden, and wait for Draco to give you a location.”

“Sir-” Marianne's voice broke through the comms.

“Trust me.” he felt a terrible grin spread across his lips at the promise of a good, against the odds battle, “I’ve got this.”

A few miles down the road Draco’s mouth dropped open. They had two feeds. One they used on missions to guide their agents in enemy territory projecting from the alter. The other they drew from the magical equivalent of CCTV the ministry had installed, mostly at Potter’s insistence. It meant he could stand there and watch in bright colour and sound as Potter moved precise, graceful and powerful through a league of enemies desperate to kill him.

“There are more.” Shin murmured, “How are there more?”

“Possession…” he gnawed his lip, feeling cold down to his bones, “This is the darkest of magic.”

“There’s no proof of that.” Shin pointed out sensibly.

Draco shot him a look, “Have you ever doubted his judgement on things like this?”

“No.” Shin replied, “But that’s hardly the point.”

For long moments there was nothing but the firing of spells and the chant of words neither of them recognised as Potter kept up his astonishing display of prowess. Draco could practically feel the tension vibrating off their agents, forced to stand and watch as their mentor and hero allowed himself to be the bait. One slip up and that would be it. So Draco followed his orders, watched the screens until he finally spotted it. A single dot that hadn’t moved, disguised by the chaotic flurry of attack.

“The corner of Knockturn Alley.” Draco shot out, “Move.”

Like the professionals they were, Potter’s agents sprung into action. Keeping their disillusion intact, they apparated to the spot they had been ordered and that was when things truly lost control. A massive explosion. Bright white light powerful enough to blow out their surveillance.

“Potter?” Draco kept his voice calm as possible as he ran silent diagnostic spells, trying to get everything back online, conscious of the support staff that had arrived once they’d gotten word of what was happening in Diagon. Tense and looking for a direction he couldn’t give, “Potter? Now is not the time for you to suddenly become shy.”

“Someone call Em.” Potter’s voice sounded haggard and strained.

Shin pulled out a phone.

“We’re on it. Tell us what’s happening-we’re offline. No eyes or ears apart from you.” he had to bite his lip to avoid adding, _Why only you?_

“Magic.” he grunted, inexplicably, as though he heard the other question, “The rest are okay, unconscious.” there was a flicker on the screens as they started to right themselves, “There’s no longer a threat to Diagon Alley.”

Shin returned to the comm, “I got through to Arthur. Merlin’s home was attacked-they were overwhelmed. He’s been taken.”

There was a ripple of something over the cameras and the devastation of Diagon snapped sharply into focus. Every shop window was shattered, the walls burnished, blood and bone scattered across the cobbles. The alter showed more alive than dead, but it was impossible to tell from the pictures. Some staggered, clinging to nothing as they tried to make sense of this new horror.

In the middle of it all Potter stood, hunched, the Elder Wand and Excalibur crossed over his head as power rang through the silence. It was the slow, unalterable vibration of one force meeting another. As Draco watched Potter slowly lowered his arms, bright eyes fierce and wild as the survivors slowly came to their senses. Someone cried out his name, followed by another as realisation descended.

Harry Potter was their Saviour once again.

Rather than pretend he was one of them, Potter muttered, “I’m going to Arthur.” before disapparating and vanishing from their screens. Nostrils flaring with frustration, Draco handed operational control to Shin and stepped away from Diagon Alley so he could stay in contact with Potter.

“You need to tell me where you are and what’s happening.” he commanded, moving to one of the side altars where they ran other, less intensive missions from.

“Em’s home is rubble.” Harry muttered, anger burning through his voice, “I’m his Secret Keeper, this shouldn’t have been possible.”

Keeping alert for sound, he stepped carefully across shattered glass and let his senses spread out. There was a rustle, cocking of a gun, and Arthur emerged from the top of the stairs, torn Pendragon banner fluttering behind him.

“What happened?” Harry slipped into an at ease position, sharp eyes trailing Arthur as he moved cautiously down the stairs. There was a large gash on his right thigh, dozens of small cuts on his face, but he was steady. Teeth bared and sapphire eyes alight with rage.

“Men and women. Magical and non-magical. There were too many and when I wasn’t looking they took him.”

Harry gripped Excalibur and shot out an order for Shin and his forensics team to get here now. He was trying hard not to pace, to piece together what was happening. Excalibur in Gringotts. Possession. Tainted wands. Arthur. Merlin. His magic, shifting beneath his skin. It was all connected somehow, tied to the civilians that were being murdered everywhere they went. MI6 interfering in things that had nothing to do with them. Linked, all linked, he just needed to figure out how.

“We have a situation.” Ron’s voice broke through the comms, he sounded grim and unhappy, “You need to get here now.”

Reaching out, Harry grasped Arthur’s shoulder and eased them through the wards in his office. Ron was already there, with Draco and the Minister. Shacklebolt looked a little worse for wear but he seemed almost relieved to see him.

“Thank you, Harry.”

Putting up the Elder Wand and Excalibur, he pressed the heel of his hand against the scar on his forehead, it was an old habit he only allowed in times of stress, “What’s the problem?”

“We intercepted a group breaking into Gringotts, they’d got as far as the lowest levels before we could stop them.”Ron looked pale, smudges beneath his eyes, “The Minister won’t allow us interrogation rights.”

Harry shot a look at Kingsley, “They were trying to kill me.”

“You’re a private contractor. Your duty is to deliver them to us.”

“They’re two very different things.” Harry muttered, reaching out like Em had taught him. Auror’s hadn’t made it passed the defences this time-good-but that didn’t make him any more relaxed. The Ministry had been infiltrated, he could feel it, and he didn’t know for certain yet what the consequences of this possession were. Whether it was possible to recover memories. It was ten minutes since he’d pulled the power of Excalibur and the Elder Wand tight, binding their cores to defend against an unforeseen onslaught of power unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and the Ministry were sweeping in to take back what he’d saved them from. Again.

“Harry-”

“I was almost another sacrifice today.” his voice was hard, magic twining and surging restlessly beneath his skin, “I’ve been trying to tell you for so long that the Ministry is rotten and you refused to listen to me.”

“The war ravaged us all.” Kingsley was sweating, starting to look desperate, “We did the best that we could.”

Draco snorted, then stiffened when he realised everyone in the room was suddenly watching. A pink flush worked across his throat and cheeks, delicate and intoxicating. The rush of lust was out of place and irrational, but Harry wasn’t sure he’d be able to reign his impulses in for much longer. Everything was a mess, and it was only going to get worse. Getting Draco out of his system before tearing apart whoever was foolish enough to kidnap Em was starting to feel like the most sensible decision.

“It hasn’t been good enough.” the sentence left him in a slow rush of air and he observed this man that he was once looked up to as a boy, desperate for guidance and acceptance from an adult who in the end only saw him as another tool, just like everyone else.

“Harry-”

“I’m not giving them to you.” he pulled up straight, crossed his arms and tried to remain steadfast and neutral, “There is a threat to our society that I don’t believe the Ministry is equipped to handle.”

Kingsley’s eyes went wide, “You can’t defy us like this. It’s treason.”

“Not exactly.” Luna appeared and if she wasn’t trailing ancient manuscript carelessly behind her Harry would have thought it timed deliberately.

“I am the Minister for Magic.” Kingsley growled, “The highest elected authority in Great Britain.”

“Yes, and Harry Potter, as a descendent of magical royalty and Champion of Albion is entitled to take command during times of crisis.” she handed the document to Kingsley, “It’s enshrined in the Magna Carter, the first parsing out of elected and unelected power in Britain.”

Kingsley took a deep breath, eyes burning, “You can’t do this!”

“The criteria for a Champion of Albion is convoluted, but specific.” Luna continued as though she hadn’t heard, “There must be a series of quests against dangerous monsters before overcoming a destined adversary. Sacrifice is a necessary component and Harry has certainly given enough.” she threw him a fond glance, before her expression sharpened, “I have all the necessary paperwork. Harry Potter can, and is, taking control of Magical Britain away from the Ministry until the threat has passed.”

Kingsley stared Harry down, “This is a mistake.”

Harry held back his considerable scorn. It wasn’t as though he wanted this to happen either. For years he’d been taking contracts, getting buried beneath magic and blood as a way to distract himself from the responsibility he felt for the people forced to live in a society that refused to learn from its mistakes. The war was supposed to change things, but as a wise man once said, the world is not split up into good people and Death Eaters.

“It’s a temporary measure.” he sounded calmer than he felt, “Call your people Minister, there are conversations we need to have-” he shot a look at Arthur, “and people we need to find.”

With that clear dismissal, Luna and Ron herded the Minister out of his office and once the door was shut Harry allowed his body to topple into the waiting chair. Draco was staring at him, wide eyed and somehow annoyed, “Fuck.”

“What’s your title?” Arthur hitched up onto the side of the desk, peering at his cut and scowling when Harry reached out and healed it with a brush of his fingertips, “How much magic did you use?”

“No idea.” he felt like hell, “I have no idea what happened and no idea why I’m still alive.”

“Normal day at the office then.” Draco was trying to keep his voice light and struggling. Harry counted in his head and on three Draco burst out, “But seriously-what the fuck just happened!”

“Luna found the clause years ago and we joked about it at first.” he rubbed his eyes and reached out for a bottle of bourbon, relieved when it smacked against his hand, “Never thought we’d actually ever have to use it.”

“So you’re it now?” his silver eyebrows were fast vanishing into his fringe, soft and drooping low over his eyes, the stress of the last hour working against Draco’s usual stern control, “Our leader?”

Taking a sip of bourbon direct from the bottle, Harry sprawled in his chair and couldn’t help a smirk, “You mean you wouldn’t bow down in front of all this?”

Draco blushed then snorted a laugh, throwing the nearest pen at Harry’s head, “Arrogant arse. What do we do about the people we captured?”

“Send in Shin-who’s the highest ranked agent we have on hand?”

“Rosen.”

“Shin and Rosen.” he nodded, they’d worked this before, “They’ll take care of it.”

“Okay, I’ll pass it on.” he turned away, was almost out the door when he paused, looked over his shoulder with a sombre, serious expression that put Harry on edge, “I don’t care that what just happened probably started at another of your ridiculous get together’s over too much wine. If there was anyone I would trust to get us through this in one piece, it’s you Potter.” his lips quirked into a reproving smile, “You always did have a knack for the impossible.” and he left, the door drawing closed behind him.

Stunned, Harry took another glug of bourbon and muttered, “Shut up.” when he caught sight of the amused look on Arthur’s face, “We’ve got work to do.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided yesterday this needed to be broken up into parts. It's transforming too quickly into another type of story and I'd like to explore it all within a fresher set of parameters.
> 
> Either way, enjoy. Comment and kudos are always much appreciated :-)

Draco couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so exhausted. Since Potter’s return, it had been one long slog after another. Luna, taking advantage of his legal experience had roped him into negotiations with the Ministry’s legal team. There were a lot of constitutional nuances that needed to be cleared up, so Hermione, Pansy and Ron could come in and start parsing out responsibility with various department heads as soon as possible. For now everything would remain the same on the surface, while PWG took advantage of this small window to do what they had been itching for since the beginning.

Tear up the roots of corruption in the Ministry and start healing the fissures war had left behind.

It was another three days before he saw Potter in person. The wizarding world went completely insane when it was announced he had become their _defensoris regni_. Last time the clause had been invoked was during the Civil War, when the third cousin of both families called in their right as a Champion of Albion to overrule the cycle of destruction. His first act was to end to inherited rule and begin the first vestiges of democracy across Magical Britain.

Naturally the reaction was mixed. Those that had always hated Potter and saw him as nothing more than an arrogant, power hungry upstart that always had an inflated sense of his own importance were calling it a coup and against the democratic values of Wizarding Britain. Others were treating it a near religious experience. Once it got out he’d been addressed as ‘Once and Future King’ by their mystery terrorist, people started talking about Merlin, Arthur and Destiny as though this decision was anything more than pragmatic.

They’d orchestrated a very smooth transition, so smooth he wondered how long they’d been preparing for it. A press release was sent to all wizarding publications the evening after Harry had made his claim, because rumours of a power vacuum during a national emergency would have driven things even further out of control. The next morning there was a conference, attended by Potter’s fans as well as the press.

In the ruins of Diagon Alley, with the Minister at Potter’s right shoulder, he spoke clearly and confidently about the nature of the threat, and how he urged everyone to stay calm and talk to them if they had any information. This would be a collaborative effort, unlike before, and the enemy was outside, not in. It was so subtly weaved, just this side of pragmatic. Potter was drawing away from grand dialogues about good and evil even as he stood there with Excalibur strapped to his hip.

Then once he and Luna had shored up the ‘temporary’ aspect of it all, Potter was on tour. Non magical authorities needed to be informed of the new regime change and Draco dreaded to think how the meeting with Six must have gone.

There was a clatter on the table and Draco didn’t need to look round from the kettle he was studiously watching to guess that it was Potter. The air seemed to change around him these days. A shock of ozone that made Draco’s hair stand on end.

“How has your day been?” he mumbled into the hand he was using to keep his head up.

“Awful.”

Two strong arms slipped around his waist and Draco did not squeak. He gasped in a thoroughly manly way. As would anyone to find Harry Potter’s lips grazing the back of their neck.

“Potter?” he was surprised it came out sounding so steady.

“If you don’t want this, you have to tell me now.” it was almost a plea, his voice gruff from lust, exhaustion or both, “I have so much to do and I can’t have you just _there_ anymore. It’s driving me insane.”

Draco’s breath stuttered, “This is a bad idea…”

“So bad.” lips brushed against the tender flesh of his neck and Draco started to tremble, “I am going to be so bad for you Draco.”

“You always were.” and before he could talk himself out of the consequences, Draco turned in the circle of Potter’s arms and kissed him. In his fantasies this first kiss had always been a furious, passionate thing driven by years of misplaced emotion. Whether it was exhaustion, or something else, their first press of lips was slow and exploratory. Potter’s hands roaming along his back and sides, a lovely drift of warm fingertips as Draco melted in his arms.

When they paused, breath against breath, Draco murmured, “Didn’t know you had it in you Potter.”

“Nor did I.” he admitted, “Not anymore.” and he picked up the kiss, slipping his tongue into Draco’s mouth and whatever composure he’d been clinging to disintegrated. Potter’s hands moved purposefully down his back, gripped his thighs and with a showy display of sidealong they materialised on Potter’s bed, clothes already banished somewhere, and just fell into one another.

Potter’s mouth was hot, his teeth sharp, and those strong, calloused hands were everywhere. Magic washed against his skin, keeping him sensitive, on edge, as Potter lavished his cock with long, indulgent swipes of his tongue while thick fingers opened him up. Draco kept trying to say something, take back a little control, but each time he attempted Potter would growl, do something wicked with his fingers and he forgot what the fuss was all about. Draco was overwhelmed by heat and desire and that underlying feeling of _not enough_ that was growing with each curl of Potter’s tongue against his.

“Potter!” there was a definite sob in his voice, possibly tears in his eyes, he couldn’t tell anymore, “Please!”

“Please what?” the voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, caressing all of him at once.

“Fuck me!” pride had gone completely out the window, his skin, his nipples, the clenching of his entrance were driving him to frenzy, “I need you to fuck me.”

There was a savage bite on his inner thigh and Potter pushed in with one long, burning thrust. Calves hitched up on Potter’s broad shoulders, he scrabbled his hands up and held on for dear life as with each dizzying thrust he was broken apart even more, only held together by the press of Potter’s lips on his, the constant, steady force of his magic until that’s all there was left. Harry Potter, nemesis, hero, spy and King. The only true love of his life.

“You’re mine Draco.” Potter nudged his face and forced Draco to look at him, to focus, on green eyes alight with liquid gold, fingernails digging into his thighs, “Say it!”

“Gods, yours.” he panted, dragging Potter’s face down so he could kiss some part of it, “Always yours. Forever.” and that seemed to satisfy Potter enough because he growled, picked up the pace and the thrum of magic was suddenly deeper, sinking beneath his skin, his bones until it caught something else. Something essential, and he came so hard he lost track of time. There was just liquid light, and bliss, and Potter. Everywhere. Buried so deep they were bound now, in some way that shouldn’t be possible.

“I might have gotten carried away.” Harry’s voice murmured against his neck what seemed a lifetime later. There was the distant rustle of covers, followed by darkness as curtains were drawn and Draco reached out to pat his head.

“S’okay. We’re all tired.” he yawned.

“Yes, we are.” there was a bone cracking yawn and Draco was vaguely displeased at being manhandled out of his very comfortable position, until he realised his head was now on Potter’s chest and they were pressed together. It was lovely and much better than what he’d been attempting before.

“I think-” he paused, pressed an absent kiss against the nearest bit of skin he could find, “We should talk about this.”

“Hmm…” Potter replied absently, “Later.”

Draco was fast asleep before he could even consider a reply.

\--

Merlin opened one eye, immediately regretted it and closed it again. This couldn’t be happening. It was a lab. Shiny white, modern, with humming machines and needles sticking in his arms. At the moment he was alone. With a thought he tried to undo the manacles tying his wrists to the bench he’d been placed on, but nothing happened. Merlin panicked, a machine started beeping and suddenly he wasn’t alone any longer.

“No need to struggle.” commented a bland, familiar voice, “You’re quite secure.”

Q, flanked by a team of minions, suddenly filled out the lab. Merlin tried very hard not to react as his vital signs were peered at on a screen and checked against something on his tablet, “You’ve been under for a number of days-it took longer than expected to neutralise the threat of your magic.” he quirked a cold smile, “It was touch and go for awhile I’m afraid, but I’m sure you’ll be glad to know we have everything under control now.”

Rage, the towering knowledge of years and a baseline loathing of betrayal meant that when Merlin dug deep and called, his magic responded, it would always respond, “Do you think you can hold me!” he roared, as lights flickered, everything electrical going off line, trying to revert to their natural state, “I am-” he screamed when pain unlike anything he’d ever known exploded in his head. In his body. Great sickening waves of despair as his magic was forced inward, deep into his bones, his soul.

Hands were on his shoulders, arms, and he was tied back down to the bench. Q’s eyes were hidden by the flashing lights as he watched dispassionately, “Very important I’m sure.” he finished in a tidy drawl, “Unfortunately you’ve delayed our conversation somewhat. We’ll have to try again later.”

As he turned to go, Merlin felt something along the edges of his consciousness ripple and echo. Something he hadn’t felt for an age. The relief, the impossibility made him laugh through the crippling pain, so hard and unsteadily the bench was the only thing holding him up. Q didn’t even pause in his retreat, too much the professional to give even the slightest hint of ground to an enemy captive. Some of his minions weren’t of quite the same mettle.

One caught his eye and Merlin grinned, his mad, sinister smile reserved for only the most doomed of his enemies, “Oh you don’t know what you’ve just awoken.” and he laughed again. Oh yes, it was going to be the old days all over again indeed.

\--

Draco wasn’t sure what happened exactly. It was the middle of the night, or something, and he was sore, tired and perplexed because they seemed to be much closer to the ceiling than he remembered. And so was the bedside table, and the wardrobe. In fact everything was hovering a few feet off the ground, as far as he could make out. It was dark.

Assuming this had something to do with Potter, Draco turned and frowned. Harry was talking rapidly under his breath, gold flickering beneath his lashes. More spontaneous magic, as though there hadn’t been enough of that already. As he reached out a hand, smoothing it from Harry’s wrist up to his bicep he suddenly shot upright, calling, “ _Oh Draka!_ ” in a voice that was barely his, the gold in his eyes reaching zenith before fading away in the darkness. Everything dropped to the floor in one huge thud and Harry looked around in confusion.

“Did I do that?” his voice was scratchy.

“What the fuck is going on with your magic?” Draco demanded, tired and irritable as he took the nearest arm and wrapped it around his waist so he could roll over with Harry tucked up behind him, “It’s supposed to start levelling out in our mid twenties. Not. Doing whatever yours is doing.”

“I think my magic’s always been like this, I just never noticed.” a kiss was pressed against his neck, “I had far too much luck growing up. I fought off Voldemort and killed a basilisk at the age of twelve. I mean-who does that?”

Draco laughed and snuggled back somewhat deliberately against Harry’s crotch, “Arseholes like you.”

“Well yes, I suppose.” and he got on board with the plan very quickly. They were both blessedly naked already, and just as Draco was settling in nicely, two fingers buried inside him while Harry’s hand was pulling deliciously at his cock, they were distracted by a roar. Very deep, very terrifying, followed by the house lighting up as though it was on fire. Potter, the great brilliant oaf that he was seemed inclined to continue until a very bitchy voice rang out,

“I do hate to interrupt, but it is _you_ who woke _me_.”

Harry stopped biting Draco’s neck to question, “Did you hear that?”

“Yes.”

“Bugger.” he rolled away, picked up a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and headed outside. Much too horny to do anything immediate, Draco willed his hard on to fade a little and staggered after. The only thing he had mind for was a robe which he’d only just managed to tie up when he encountered Potter. In his garden. With a great bloody dragon. A series of deep orange glowing orbs lighting the space like lanterns around them.

“Ermm…” his voice was quite dry as he stumbled forward, grabbing hold of Potter’s arm and trying to avoid catching the beast's attention, “I would have thought you’d had enough of dragons at school.”

“Yes.” Potter seemed distracted, it looked as though he was in something of a staring match with a great pair of glowing golden eyes, “I thought so too.”

“Where is Emrys?” it hissed.

“Kidnapped.” he tilted his head to the side, “I don’t know how I woke you.”

The dragon hissed at him and bent its long scaly neck so he could get closer to Harry, it’s breath thick with the promise of sulfur and fire, “Why do you wear Excalibur?”

Harry looked down at his hip and raised an eyebrow in surprise, “It likes me.”

“Arthur Pendragon walks the earth once more, yet Excalibur chose you?” he seemed sarcastic, and annoyed, “This is not how destiny is supposed to play out.”

“Kilgharrah.” Harry addressed it, him, Draco wasn’t sure, “You’re him aren’t you?” there was a shimmer of heat in his eyes, the promise as distinct and dangerous as dragon fire, “Em’s Dumbledore.”

“You speak in riddles.” it hissed and Draco trembled, fingers digging into Harry’s arm. There were many fears he’d forced himself to overcome as he grew, but the one that would forever haunt his nightmares was fire. Made of the rage and senseless power creatures like this dragon wielded. Sensing his fear Harry drew him closer, pressed an absent a kiss against his temple as though they’d done this a million times before. Draco shook harder when the dragon turned one eye on him before focussing on Harry once more.

“You were all he had.” Harry’s voice was soft, thoughtful, “Naive young boy given the impossible task of keeping alive a Prince he barely knew, based on reasoning he couldn’t comprehend.” the dragon growled and bared its teeth, but Harry carried on talking as though he hadn’t noticed, “You tricked him and innocent people died. His father died.”

“How do you know this?” Kilgharrah demanded, a deep, angry growl making the world shake around them.

“He’s family to me, Great Dragon.” Harry’s voice was respectful, but authoritative, “You are his kin...and now I think you’re mine.”

The dragon cocked its huge head and glowered some more, “Emrys was the last Dragon Lord. The line ended with him.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow, “Apparently not.” he made another snap of his head, the movement curiously serpentine and smiled as a second dragon landed heavily behind them. They were now trapped, between two dragons, and Harry was grinning.

“Harry!”

“Aithusa.” he bowed his head in greeting and the second dragon did the same. It was long, and white, with perfect azure blue eyes that shimmered softly in the lanterns Harry had conjured.

“Have you called any more dragons?!” Draco demanded.

“...No. I don’t think so.” he seemed unsure, “Kilgharrah? Could I have? I don’t want to summon a nest of dragons on London.”

The Great Dragon seemed to think on it a moment before responding with a slow shake of the head, “No...the old words do not translate as they should...but I suspect you could reshape them, if you wished to.”

It was at this point that Draco decided he’d had enough. It was one thing admiring Potter’s stupidly brilliant fighting style. Grace and power ideally meshed to save as much as destroy. Wandless magic was fine. Even wielding two of the Deathly Hallows as though it was a common occurrence he could get behind, but this? Binding them together in the heat of the moment and summoning dragons from myth in his sleep was one step too far.

“Send them away.”

Harry looked at him, “What?”

“It is-I don’t know what time it is-but we have an awful lot to be getting on with and they have to go away!” to his astonishment Draco sounded far more desperate than he meant, and there were tears in his eyes, actual tears, “You have meetings to attend and people-so many people relying on you-and-and-” he had to stop then because Harry was pulling him close and kissing his hair, his neck, but none of it was any good. The tears had started and they wouldn’t stop because he knew that whatever happened next Harry wasn’t coming back from it.

Ancient magic didn’t obey the rules. It broke apart secrets hidden in the soul of another and it could overwhelm a person’s mind and body. Dragons meant war and he wasn’t sure he could do that again. It hurt enough to watch his family fall to the Dark Lord’s malevolence, and he had barely survived it. This was different. This was worse. Harry was everything. Harry was the point and he couldn’t loose him.

“You died once already!” he smacked him on the arm, the chest and tried to pull away but Harry wouldn’t let him, “How much further does it have to go!? How much more do you need to do before people start thinking for themselves! Saving themselves! It’s not your responsibility!”

Harry tugged him against his chest, “I’m sorry Draco.”

“Sorry!” he tried to shout and it came out a sob, “What are you sorry for!?”

“For being an idiot-for thinking I could protect you.” he pressed a kiss on Draco’s cheek and ran fingers through the hair on the back of his scalp, “I should have resisted and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry about that!” he shoved Harry again because he didn’t seem to be getting it, “I love you-you dolt! I don’t want you to die! That’s it-that’s all-don’t you see?”

Harry’s eyes flared inexplicably gold once more and Draco felt a burning on his left hand, his right shoulder and he shoved him away again, “What are you doing!?”

“Nothing!” there was a glow on Harry’s forearm, “This is you!”

“What-oh gods!” and he launched himself at Harry, because that seemed suddenly like the most important thing in the world. Tearing off the stupid clothes he was wearing and shoving him to the damp grass beneath, “I hate you! You’re awful and I hate you!”

“Shut up.” he was rolled onto his back, robe forgotten as two fingers found his entrance, pushed him open but it didn’t seem to matter, he was already loose and ready. It was as though he’d been made this way, to fit Harry.

“The dragons.” he suddenly remembered there was an audience as Harry hoisted up his thighs and used instinct to drive in, “Harry! The dragons!”

That wretched beautiful gold was shimmering across his eyes once more and just before Harry fused them together in a breath stealing kiss he intoned in a voice almost his, “They stand as witness.”

Draco didn’t know or care what that meant because all of a sudden he was being fucked within an inch of his life. The ground was damp, a functioning part of his mind recognised it would be a nuisance to clear up the places mud was gathering but everything else was a white wash. It was his body, his mind, and he lost them both in the rush of being beneath Harry, until his magic started to pull out of him, dragged out of its tidily controlled core as though drawn by an elemental force.

Without a wand, without the blinding fear of death he didn’t understand what it was for. They could never be the same and as Harry rolled them again, so Draco was on his lap, chasing and demanding his own pleasure it became blindingly clear how little it mattered. Their power could never match. Harry was fierce and bold and sly and he was craving something so desperately he’d almost broken himself in the process.

Harry Potter once died for love. Then he had killed for it. Now he was going to create Albion just because he could and Draco refused to let that be the end. If Harry had to be impossible, then he had to be impossible as well. So he gripped the fingers digging into his hips and used all the power he had to keep Harry where he was. Against the earth while their magic made an extravagant light show around them.

When Harry broke free, grasped his waist and drove up into him hard, so hard, Draco shattered into a million pieces. Inside out, upside down, magic singing and sparkling as fire exploded above them. A blazing trail of heat crossing above their heads as they sat at the centre, getting their breath as the chanting he’d barely noticed reached a new and sudden crescendo.

Followed by a slow, dawning silence.

“Potter?” his voice felt awful, and he hummed in pleasure as Harry’s lips pressed against the throb in his shoulder, thumb softening the fading burn on his left hand.

“...Yes?”

“Your take on that? If you please?”

Harry pressed a kiss to his neck, shuddering as Draco’s fingers found the mark on his forearm, “I think we’re bound Draco.”

“How-why?”

“Destiny bends around you, Harry Potter.” Kilgharrah’s voice was softer, more reverent than it had been before, “I accept you as my Lord, my kin.” he bowed his head low, as did Aithusa, “We will help and advise you in any way we can.”

Harry bowed his head in return, seemingly indifferent to his lapful of new husband or whatever the fuck they were now, “Thank you.” and both dragons suddenly turned and took off, leaving them alone in the garden and covered in mud.

“I need to shower.” Draco mumbled against Harry’s neck, even as he sat content with Harry still inside him, too tired to move, “I can’t believe you fucked me in front of two dragons.”

“You started it.” there was a smirk in his voice as fingers drifted along the line of his back, soothing, teasing, “Maybe you were inevitable after all.”

“As gravity.” he agreed, “Don’t know why you spent all that time pretending Potter.”

“It was for your own good.” he muttered, “You’re right to be worried. This thing that’s coming-” he kissed Draco’s neck, “I need you to be safe.”

“And I need you to live.” he pulled back so he could look into Harry’s eyes, open at last, warm and loving, “Do you understand Harry? Whatever happens next you have to live.”

“Then we’ll find a way.” Harry’s response was simple, and serious before he cracked a grin, “Now lets shower. There are still many perfectly serviceable hours before dawn.”

“They’re for sleeping Potter.” he warned but the only thing he heard before Harry disapparated them back into the house was the echo of his laughter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made it to the end. Kind of! I'm sorry it's taken so long but I'm so appreciative of every single interaction. Thank you for reading, I adore you all.

Six was in a state of panic. It wasn’t immediately obvious, there was always a threat that demanded their attention but Harry Potter’s swift and sudden ascension had thrown them all out of alignment. Every day there were more reports of magical anomalies, shadow creatures, unexpected relics, a gathering storm so far contained within Wizarding Britain that was set to spill out across the country. 

“Why are we even involved in all this?” Arthur overheard another Double-Oh agent question as they were summoned to a meeting with M, “It’s local-its Five’s business.”

“Unknown element, I suppose.” another agent answered with a shrug, “Plus we’ve got Q.”

Yes, Q, who was already seated on M’s left with a steaming mug of tea and engrossed in his tablet. When the door shut behind them he glanced up, checked who was around, and returned to his task. James was tucked in a corner with Alec Trevelyan, the pair of them surveying the room with casual disdain. Arthur moved as he took his seat, just so he could feel the comfort of his gun tucked against his side. 

“Thank you, settle down.” M stood and silence followed immediately, “I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumours and I’m here to assure you it’s quite true.” he flicked a button on his control and the projector screen shifted to show a picture of Harry Potter in the middle of combat, wielding a wand and a silver blade as the telltale glow of spells went off around him, “Harry Potter now has full command of Wizarding Britain.”

“Coup?” James questioned.

“Unconfirmed. The legal arrangement is airtight.” Moneypenny replied, “Potter has the right to cede power in a state of national emergency and he has it.”

“For the moment we are assuming his intentions are mostly positive.” M picked up, “He was candid in his dealings with us, Five and the government.” he changed the image to reveal Potter, at dinner with Merlin and it took everything Arthur had to keep still, to not flinch, millenias of experience enforcing his mask, “Nevertheless he has been on our watchlist for the last five years for a reason.”

“Potter has been linked with the assassination of everything from Mexican cartel bosses to entire yakuza cells.” Q stood up suddenly, crisply, “Unlike the majority of his kind Potter operates as much in our world as his. PWG is one of the most influential security firms in the world and their success rate is unparalleled, due in part to their dedication to innovation ensuring they stayed one step ahead of the competition.” the screen changed to show a live feed, it was of a lab with a figure strapped unconscious to a table, “This is Merlin Emrys. Believed to be around roughly one thousand five hundred years old. The-”

“Bullshit!” shot out Rashida, codename Double-Oh Five, “You can’t mean Merlin. The actual, Arthurian Merlin!”

Q’s smile was bland, “We are dealing with magic Double-Oh Five. Trust me when I say it is not only possible, but quite real.”

“For a number of years we have tried to make sense of magic.” M continued in a cool, neutral voice, “It is an unknown quantity commanded by a small minority of the population. In the main we have been content to ignore them, and they us. But twelve years ago a tyrant took command of Magical Britain and innocent people started dying. Tortured and murdered for sport because they did not have magic. Potter, we believe, was crucial in his demise but it would not be the first time that one authoritarian regime is superseded later by another, worse variation.”

“And Emrys?” Double-Oh Five demanded.

“They call him The Father of Magic.” Q zoomed in, so close Arthur could see the length of his lashes but aside from the needles in his arms he didn’t appear to be harmed in any way, “He is not like other wizards. In the main they are like us, aside from the fact they can channel energy and shape with it in a way we cannot. They also have markedly longer life spans, but can suffer many of the same ailments. Apart from Merlin.” he threw up a bunch of stats, “His metabolism is what I would call sentient. As we speak his cells are adapting an antibody to our sedation. He will be awake soon and we will not be able to contain him.”

“Then why are we trying?” Alec threw out, “This is science, it’s got nothing to do with us. Let him go before he brings Six down on us.”

“Your insight, as always, is perfectly staggering Double-Oh Six.” he drawled without interest, “Magic is a weapon and I have developed a number of tools that will allow us to even out the playing field.”

Moneypenny pulled a briefcase out from beneath the table and started to hand out their new gear, “I have created a field that distorts magic. It is a frequency that hacks into each unique signature and forces magic inwards, back on the wizard. As the Father of Magic even Merlin is not a immune.” Arthur took the watch he’d been handed, nausea growing tight and uncomfortable in his stomach, “Simply twist and press. You know the routine by now.” he flicked the image on the screen to demonstrate how it worked, as though any of them understood, “The next is a shield, it will deflect all but one of their spells. If anyone fires something green at you, duck.” Arthur toyed with the tie pin, the women their brooches, “Press the ruby to activate.” the last was a magazine clip that would fit in their standard issue Walther PPK’s, “These, however, are something quite special because of course what good is defence without sufficient offense?” there was a lot of confusion and he sighed in disappointment, “They aren’t ordinary rounds. I have singled out and identified how certain spells function. I believe these rounds mimic a Blast Hex-maximum damage, rather messy and extremely proficient at shattering magical shields.”

James raised an eyebrow, “Is nothing sacred Q?”

Q simply continued as though he hadn’t heard, “They have been programmed to mimic Emrys’ own unique energy signature, which means there is possibly only one person capable of retaliating with force.” 

“We are not expecting an attack.” M stressed, “Harry Potter is an ally of Six, but Wizarding Britain is in a state of national emergency. It is our duty to remain vigilant and be prepared to assist or undermine as needed.”

“Harry Potter is one of us.” Q added, taking a sip of his tea and resting a hip casually against the table, “Highly trained, extremely capable with a position of unquestionable influence within his own society, with a history of being impulsive and unpredictable. We don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

“And Emrys?” Trevelyan demanded, “What do we do about him?”

“He was intercepted illegally.” M’s face was tight with anger and annoyance, “We are letting him go.” he switched off the projector, “You are all dismissed.”

Head spinning, Arthur filed out the conference room and tried not to faint with relief. Merlin was okay, he was alive, they still had time. 

“Double-Oh Eight.” Q called behind him, “Come with me.”

“Yes Sir.” he nodded, letting his heart rate settle as he fell in line behind Q who was firing out commands to his minions via the tablet. Judging by the tread of feet at his shoulder Bond was following. 

Everything about this was screaming conspiracy. Arthur should not be here. A fellow agent had seen him with Merlin, watched them defend themselves together. Merlin was Potter’s ally, they were both uniquely dangerous to the state. It was not making sense. 

Q suddenly made a deft turn onto the staircase. They were three flights down before he spun on his heel, saying quickly and concisely, “You are in serious danger. You need to take Emrys and claim sanctuary in Wizarding Britain.”

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded, as James brushed ahead of them, armed, checking each access point.

“There is a faction. It is deeply buried, well funded, and it’s goal is to destabilise the Ministry and annex wizarding Britain.” Q spoke in a rush and at James’ cue they continued moving.

“How do you know that?” he questioned, utterly confused. 

“Because they recruited us.” James said shortly, falling to a stop and holstering his weapon as they slipped onto the research floor. Q strode ahead of them once again and Arthur had no choice but to fall in line. If what they said was true, that meant someone would be on their way to pick up Merlin and kill him. If they were as well informed as they believed, they would know that harming one of Potter’s people would be a surefire way to start a war. That couldn’t happen. The results would be  
devastating. 

Q nodded absently at the two guards and waved his hand over a panel in the room. 

“Video loop initiated.” Q stated as Arthur dashed over to Merlin, gently removing the needles keeping him sedated before tugging off all the straps. Merlin slumped and Arthur scooped him up off the table, bridal style, which he was certain Merlin would hate, if he was able. As it was he hardly stirred.

“How much did you give him?!” Arthur hissed as James tugged a kit bag concealed behind one of the storage units.

“As much as we needed to.” James said curtly as he handed it over.

“Use the tunnels.” Q commanded, nudging a panel in the back corner of the lab that opened to a passageway, of course, “There is a car waiting. Do not stop until you are at PWG. We’ll be in touch.”

Shouldering the backpack, Arthur headed through the tunnels. As the panel closed behind him, there was a crack of flesh on flesh followed by a huge crash. Clock was ticking. With some awkward shuffling he managed to grab hold of his phone and swipe open the screen, activating the map Q had supplied. Resigning Merlin to a fireman’s carry, Arthur hurried through the tunnels. Poorly lit, dank and narrow, he followed his cues and wound up beneath a manhole cover. Sighing, he fastened one arm around Merlin’s legs, gripped tightly to the rung and stepped up slowly, methodically, shoving the cover aside and emerging gracelessly into a narrow side street. It was damp and raining. This wasn’t helping his mood.

Groaning, he took a moment to get his breath and his bearings, “That’s it. You just lie there. Let me do all the work.” he muttered at Merlin, who looked utterly peaceful lying on the dank ground. Swinging the bag off his shoulder, Arthur rifled around in the front compartment and pulled out a car key as well as a knife which he fastened efficiently to his belt. Then someone fired a gun in their direction, and with less grace than before he picked up his useless sorcerer and ran to the end other end of the street where a Ford Focus was waiting for them. Only the best, of course. 

Unceremoniously chucking Merlin in the back, he ducked another volley of bullets and slid in the driver's seat and sped off. Or tried to. It was still London, Vauxhall in London to be precise and it took some desperate maneuvering before he was finally headed in the right direction, three cars at least on his trail.

Swinging a sudden right, he called the PWG reception and shouted as soon as the call was picked up, “Put me through to Potter!”

“Certainly, can I ask who's calling?” came the smooth, polite reply.

“Arthur-fuck-Pendragon!” 

A police car appeared out of nowhere and Arthur fought the urge to grind his teeth as he was forced to listen to exceedingly pleasant hold music. There was a click as he finally escaped the narrow roads and made it onto the north side of the river, National Theatre bleak and hulking on his left, three black cars fanning out behind him, “Weasley here.”

“I was looking for Potter.” 

“He’s busy. Anything I can help with?”

“I’m claiming asylum. Now.”

“There’s usually some paperwork attached to that.” 

Two men on motorbikes suddenly roared alongside him, a blaze of bullets hailing down on the windows that thankfully didn’t shatter. Q’s handiwork then. 

“Don’t have time for paperwork.” he veered left, knocked one guy off his bike and lowered the window just enough for him to shoot the second as they reloaded before closing back up again, “It’s an emergency.”

It was a mark of how long Weasley had been at this game that the unmistakeable sounds of a car chase didn’t phase him at all. Arthur could hear him humming and taking a sip of tea.

“Is there any reason why you’re heading our way in a car and being pursued by Her Majesty’s most dogged?” 

“Merlin’s drugged. There’s a conspiracy within Six and they’re very keen to ensure the most powerful sorcerer that ever lived does not return to the fold.” he surmised, as neatly as he could while keeping an eye on their pursuers. 

Swerving right, he screeched through onto the Strand and moved up a gear, he was closing in, “I’ll be at your building in three minutes.”

“You can’t claim amnesty until you cross the PWG threshold.” Ron’s voice sounded a touch more serious now, “How many are chasing you?”

“Three teams of four, including one Double-Oh. Tough old bastard by the name of Alec Trevelyan.” 

Ron made a displeased sound, “Is he part of the conspiracy?”

“He lead the extraction team that attacked Merlin’s home. Let me go.”

“You’re too difficult to explain away.” Ron stated as though it was obvious, “Can’t kill a weapon of your investment and caliber without drawing attention.” he paused and added, “Plus it would piss off Merlin. Not the cleverest move.”

“Yes well he’s not the cleverest at the moment.” he murmured, “I’m pulling up. See you shortly.”

Half on the pavement, he dragged Merlin’s legs, ducked down and threw him over his shoulder as he ran through the bright white reception towards the lifts. Security guards tried to stop him, more bullets were firing, and he managed to fire up the lift just as Alec skidded in front of him, pale eyes bright with the thrill of the chase.

“Bad move little one.” Alec threatened with a smirk.

Arthur showed him the finger and the lift, as though sensing his urgency, shot up through the building. Out of breath and tense as a live wire, he burst through reception into the first floor offices. Almost collapsing with relief when he spotted Ron and Pansy, already waiting for him, looking relaxed and acknowledging his arrival with a slight smile. Lowering Merlin onto a couch in the break out area, Arthur turned, gun loose in his hand as Alec and his agents burst through. The floor was empty, thankfully, and he didn’t look pleased by the welcoming committee. 

“Weasly. Pansy.” he shot them both a charming smile, “Always a joy.”

“You need to take your people and leave.” Ron’s voice was perfectly amicable.

“No. I need to bring my traitors into custody.”

“That supposes they’re yours.” Ron replied, opening his suit jacket and pulling out a couple of thick vellum sheets, “We have one, Arthur Pendragon and one Merlin nee Emrys registered as citizens of Wizarding Britain. They fall under our jurisdiction.” he handed them over, “It is for us to say if they are traitors or not.”

Alec snatched them with a snarl, “The ink isn’t even dry.”

“That’s neither here nor there.” Ron, using thumb and forefinger, snatched them right back, “If you want either of them, you will have to go through the proper channels.”

Alec narrowed his eyes before zeroing in on Arthur, “You stay, you give up everything.”

That wasn’t an exaggeration. Arthur had grown up in a government family. Military and intelligence bred into his bones. Six was where he belonged. Years of blood, sweat and tears spent trying to prove himself worthy of serving the Crown, protecting the people. Getting his hands bloody so they didn’t have to.

Merlin stirred nearby, eyelashes fluttering as he groaned and Arthur was almost floored once more by a deep rush of love and affection. Stubborn and useless as Merlin was most of the time, they belonged together. The universe had conspired to give them a second chance and he wouldn’t fuck it up this time. Couldn’t. 

“I’m staying here Alec.” his voice sounded different to his own ears, soft, weary and regal, “This is my home.”

Alec peered at him, “It’s not a legend is it? You’re him. Arthur Pendragon.”

Arthur simply shrugged, “I suppose so, yes.”

Alec smirked and bowed low, as disrespectful as any Merlin used to pull off back in Camelot, “I’ll be seeing you Majesty.” his smirk faded, “Don’t get too comfortable.” 

With that Alec withdrew, the rest of their officers following tidily behind. Arthur sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, “Thank you both. I know I’ve exposed you both.”

“Just part of the job.” Ron smiled warmly.

“Arthur.” 

Head shooting round, Arthur almost tripped over his own feet to get to his side, “Merlin!”

“Euch.” rubbing his forehead, he sat up gingerly, “I feel like I’ve been ran over and trampled by a herd of your favourite war horses.” Arthur couldn’t help his grin, “Wait-where are we?” his head shot round, “Where the fuck is Q!?”

“Back at Six. He helped us escape.”

“He tortured me!”

“I don’t think he had a choice.” Arthur reached out for Merlin’s hand and pressed it against his lips, “We’re in a bit of trouble.”

As one Pansy and Ron’s mobile phones exploded into sound. They both answered and glanced over at them, looking incredulous and shocked.

“Yeah, yeah. On our way.” Ron started moving, calling over his shoulder, “You both need to come. Now.”

Tugging Merlin up from the sofa, they followed Ron and Pansy to a conference room that backed onto the river. Everyone was there. Hermione and Shin, Luna, Longbottom. Draco, one hand clasped to his mouth as Potter stood beside him. Face stoney, arms crossed as they watched a news report from a television mounted on the wall. 

“This can’t be real.” Pansy stated.

Arthur couldn’t work out what they were watching. It looked like a terrorist attack, in central London. There seemed to be mobile footage, of men in black capes firing spells at screaming civilians. The footage rewound from the beginning, showing them appear through a wall. Between platforms.

“No.” Merlin sounded stricken as he wandered forward, “Who would do this?”

Harry glanced over his shoulder at the sound of Merlin’s voice and relief broke through the hard lines of his face. Moving round the table Harry intercepted him, hand on his arm and tugged him into a hug, “Thank fuck you’re okay.”

“Q is a bastard.” he muttered, “What’s going on Harry?”

He pulled back, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder and smiling tightly at Arthur, “An unknown group have staged an attack at King’s Cross-using platform nine and three quarters as a gateway.”

“What is that?” Arthur asked, unable to take his eyes away from the screen as bright flares of light tore apart the non magical world without thought or care.

“It’s where children make their journey to Hogwarts.” Hermione’s voice had lost some of its stridency, her arms were wrapped tightly around her body, “It’s where the magic begins, and now they’ve tainted it.”

“This is on the BBC.” Arthur knew he was taking too long to put the pieces together but what he was watching seemed too overwhelming, too impossible to comprehend altogether, “This is actually happening.”

“The Statute of Secrecy has been well and truly broken.” Draco’s voice sounded a bit arch, as though though making light of it would make it more manageable. 

“Right. So.” he reached out for Merlin’s hand and pulled him near, “What the fuck do we do?”

Harry’s nostrils flared and Merlin shivered at the prickle of magic that burst out from his core. Everything around him was either too sharp or too blurred, slightly out of focus, and it was making his skin itch. Aching after being dragged from pillar to post, head throbbing from the sedatives, and now the world they had been holding onto no longer existed. It couldn’t and it would happen again. Uther’s Purge renewed for modern day. Albion murdered before it had the chance to flourish. 

It unveiled before him. The dreams of desolation. Sadness, rage. Harry at the centre as dragons roared at his back. Taking his vengeance on the world that had shaped him, them. All love and care withered away into dust. 

“Merlin?”

He snapped his head round at the voice and had to grip Arthur’s arm to stay upright. Pain worse than anything he’d felt for a millenia shattered through his mind and he cried out in agony. All those separate threads knotting together, pulling, tearing. This place, this time. Bane. Interloper. Druid Boy. Of course, because destiny was final and all things were condemned to repeat themselves into nothing. 

“Merlin?” Harry’s voice, stern as a King, emerald eyes aflame and Excalibur humming at his hip. The future. The past.

Take me up.

“What’s happening?” a lash of voice, tight with worry, and concern, and love. The devastation of it.

Cast me away.

Merlin peered through slitted eyes, eyes blazing golden and true. No illusion left. There he stood. Shoulders back, stance ready, pale blue eyes glittering with old enmity he’d been too distracted to notice before. Stupid, stupid, always too late, one step behind, destiny’s fucking bitch.

“No.” magic steadied him as he pulled up to his full height, pale skin aglow, gold flowing from his fingertips. The sky went dark. Hail stones shattering against the glass. 

Harry, sharp as ever, followed his focus and gripped the sword at his waist on reflex. Wand in his hand, and in his own way seeing what Merlin could. Noting the differences. Assumption versus reality. A liar meeting an even better liar.

“Shin?” Harry’s voice was hesitant, reluctant to trust the instinct that had always stood between him and death.

“Not. Shin.” Merlin managed through gritted teeth, struggling to hold back a wave of magic so deep and endless it threatened to tear him apart and bring a big chunk of London with it, “Not anymore. Not ever.”

“It’s not what you think Emrys.” Shin hissed, malice slipping effortlessly into his tone, “You were what was promised. What we believed in. You and your futile King.” his full lips pulled into a snarl, “Pendragon?” there was mockery in his voice, “What good is a dragon if it is leashed?”

Draco looked as though he wanted to move and with barely a wave of fingers Shin had him pinned against a wall. A flicker of light more silver than gold in his eyes. At once everyone was armed, wands out, attack stance. All apart from Harry who remained still, watchful, turning it over, ignoring the call of the Elder Wand and Excalibur to act, to take, to destroy. 

“If you hurt him, you know what the consequences will be.” Harry said mildly, his voice barely carrying over the noise of the television. Panic and screaming. Sirens blaring outside. The Thames, iron grey, freezing cold and churning viciously in the howling wind.

“It’s tempting.” Shin admitted, “There was a time this land was bathed in blood, and battle. Everything was so much clearer then. We had a side and we fought for it.”

“It was never that simple.” Arthur’s voice, strident and clear, seeing without pain because he knew that snarl and the pain was too old for it to hurt any longer, “I could have learned, I could have understood.”

“You would have only seen him.” the visage was slipping, “His betrayal, no matter the cause, and condemned us in his stead.”

Arthur’s jaw twitched because he couldn’t deny it. All he had when it came to Merlin was his frustration, and his love, “I had no opportunity to find out. You killed me before I could.”

Shin snarled and Draco slipped from the wall, shouting above everything, “I can’t take any more of this insanity! Harry! Explain. Now.”

Tilting his head a little to the side, Harry’s magic flared. Shin gasped, falling into the edge of the table as he was overtaken by a force far beyond his experience and control. One moment there was a delicate, beautiful young man with silky black hair, full lips and sharp cheekbones. The next there were a few more inches of height, broad shoulders, white skin and thick auburn hair. 

Only his eyes stayed the same.

“That’s not an explanation.” Draco observed, his voice icy, “Not all of us can see into the past.”

“Mordred.” Merlin and Harry spoke in unision. Lightning and thunder shattered outside. 

Mordred groaned, “Fuck that hurt.” he peered up at Harry beneath his curls, lips curling into a smirk, “I felt you. All around my magic, my soul. You could have done anything.” the smirk slipped into a leer, full of heat, and promise, “I would have let you.”

Harry smiled a little, amused, and Merlin sensed that darkness shifting, his magic becoming cool and cold to compensate for so much inherent fire, “And I thought we’d ticked off everything by now.”

“I’m yours.” Mordred said in one low rush of devotion, and he shone for a moment, free of hatred and baggage, “Everything I started back then, my rage, my vengeance. I was alone, and craving something like the promise of Arthur and Emrys. I lived for Albion and it has taken me an eternity of loneliness to understand what that truly means.”

“You’ll have to enlighten us.” Draco hissed, fingers gripping the edge of the table as he fought the limitations Harry had already imposed on his movement. For his safety, no doubt. 

“You already know Draco.” Mordred didn’t take his eyes off Harry, greedy, covetous, fanatic with love and devotion, “Merlin, Emrys the Immortal, Father of Magic. Arthur Pendragon. The Once and Future King. Their legacy would be Albion. Hope, justice and equality. Peaceful co-existence of magic and non-magical people alike.”

“Mordred-” Merlin started, only to be turned on.

“We misunderstood!” he snapped, “We were limited by the smallness of our time and the potency of Uther’s conflict. The searing poison we all inherited.” his attention shifted to Harry again, a slow drag as though he was savouring every second, “Albion was never a place.” his face grew sombre and serious, “It was a person.”

Merlin felt his heart stutter and nearly stop. Arthur entwined their fingers together and pulled him close, restless, gun still at his side though he wanted to raise it. Take a some revenge on the person that had murdered him once. Taken him from Gwen, and Camelot. Merlin. The world he was just beginning to build. 

“That’s not possible.”

“Of course it is.” Harry dismissed, eyes locked on Mordred, “You know what I’m going to do next.”

“If you want me, you know where to look.” Mordred vowed in a low, serious voice. 

Harry’s eyes flooded gold. Mordred vanished. Glass shattered outward, rain and wind tearing them all apart. Pansy shrieked, Ron groaned and Draco shoved Harry, breaking him out of the trance magic had tugged him into as everyone pulled out their phones and fled out into the hallway.

The story of Merlin and Arthur spanned two worlds. The muggles revered Arthur. Their Warlord King. Wizards had Merlin. So sanctified they called his name in vain. Yet they were always two and the same. One belonged to the other. Two sides of the same coin.

He just never expected Harry to be that coin.

“We have things to do Potter that are significantly more important than your boy!”

Harry shook his head and seemed to focus, his shoulder still burning from Draco’s assertion of their bond together, “Draco-”

“I told you.” he hissed, silver eyes sharp, pale face flushed, “I can’t lose you. So please, please do not lose yourself.”

Harry half smiled, it was crooked, and too charming as he pulled a reluctant Draco into his arms, “As if you would ever let me.”

Merlin slumped against the table, Arthur standing between his legs, rubbing his arms and waist with more force than care. The wind and rain began to slow. White overcoming grey as rolling news continued to work out how flashes of light from wooden sticks could cause such devastation. Hermione slumped in the doorway, holding out her phone with one hand and rubbing her brow with the other as though that way she could erase their most recent madness, “Harry it’s the Prime Minister on the phone. We need to do damage control.”

Harry pressed his lips to Draco’s neck before pulling back and pausing to meet his eye. It was faster than talking. From the moment they had seen it on screen, they’d known what it meant. The days of magic as something unknown and mysterious were over. It was now fact. Two worlds were clashing, the fate of millions standing on a knife edge, and Harry was Albion. Or it’s opposite, the chaos for which there was no name.

“You forced Voldemort to kill himself at the age of seventeen.” Draco murmured, “This is easy.”

“That’s until Luna makes you to deal with the admin.” Harry threw him a grin that was more playful than his sudden kiss, hot, fierce and gone as he abruptly swept away. Grabbing Hermione’s phone from her outstretched hand on the way out. There was an offensive level of swagger on display. 

Draco sighed and rubbed his eyes. This was ridiculous. Unknown, unheard of. Completely unanticipated. Fuck his alliteration was out of control. Once he’d been in an impossible situation. Trapped in his manor with only fear and shame for company. A split second later he’d chosen to abandon his family and everything they stood for, just to keep Harry alive for a little bit longer. 

As if a stinging hex could ever disguise Harry from him.

This felt the same. A turning point. If he jumped ship now and ran back to the safety of the Wizarding World as he knew it, as it was outside these walls, he knew Harry would understand. He’d carry on fighting for what he believed in regardless. Only with an extra hardness, the wild nature of his magic as enticing and frightening as ever. PWG wasn’t just a beginning, a foundation, it was a continuation of the hand he had been dealt at birth. A microcosm of what could be achieved with the right application of parity, bravery, cleverness and wit. The four cornerstones of magical discrimination utilsed and evolved into something greater.

Pansy was leaning against a wall opposite. She looked frustrated and on the verge of snapping, until she caught Draco’s eye. Beneath the fear was a thrill of being part of something utterly new, and a deeper acknowledgement that they deserved to be here. They loved the core of this group, with every hidden, obsessive part of themselves and whatever happened they would see it through.

Fuck them all. 

Albion was rising.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Mike drop*
> 
> Sorry. There have been some manipulative cliffhangers lately and I don't meant to follow the trend but it was too hard to resist. Don't hate me! But if you want to go for the plotholes I'd totally understand. 
> 
> All comments welcome, all kudos loved, all bookmarks treasured.


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